


Welcome to New York

by K_R_Closson



Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Hockey AU, July 2016 Troping Along, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-01
Updated: 2016-08-01
Packaged: 2018-07-19 11:25:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 63,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7359367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/K_R_Closson/pseuds/K_R_Closson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony Stark, designer of Stark Tech hockey equipment decides to buy the struggling Brooklyn hockey team, because he thinks it’s high time women were allowed in the NHL and if no one else will do it then he will.</p><p>Or, the first season of the Brooklyn Avengers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> My July submission for [Troping Along](http://troping-along.livejournal.com/270.html)
> 
> Quick word on warnings - I rated it T but warning for strong language because hockey.
> 
> In terms of story - this is a Hockey AU of the Avengers. There will be mentions of real life hockey players but only in passing and to a less enough degree that I don't think it needs to be put in the Hockey RPF category, but if real people in your fic is a no then this might not be a good story for you. Time wise, the story is kind of nebulous. Team make-ups are similar to the 2015-2016 season, but for my own sanity players went to the teams they went to in the last lockout. 
> 
> Finally, quick apology to the New York Islanders and John Tavares. I'm sure you're a lovely team, but I wanted the Avengers in Brooklyn so you all vanished into the ether.

BREAKING NEWS!

**New York Times:** _Tony Stark, designer of Stark Tech hockey equipment, has decided to take a more active role in the hockey world by buying out the struggling New York Islanders. He has money but does he have the skill and wherewithal to turn this team around? Longtime fans of the franchise certainly hope so._

**Boston Globe:** _ In an attempt to reclaim the spotlight after a disappointing third quarter, Tony Stark of Stark Tech has bought out the New York Islanders. Will this be the beginning of hockey teams wearing sponsored jerseys like we see in European football? Brad Marchand of the Boston Bruins says, “Over my dead body”. _

**LA Times:** _ Most of us on the West Coast know Tony Stark as the billionaire playboy that hosts lavish parties at his Malibu Mansion. But he might be spending a lot less time out here as reports say he’s just bought the New York Islanders and named himself not only owner but also GM. Does he have the skill to do both positions? We’ll have to wait and find out. _

**Deadspin:** _After a lockout that kept the NHL players off the ice for an entire year, players and fans are eager to get back on the ice. The lockout was caused by owners and coaches pitching a fit when they were forced to consider a petition saying women ought to be allowed in the NHL. Here at Deadspin, we’re all for diversity as long as the women wear full cages. No one wants to see women with their teeth missing. No one really wants to see men with their teeth missing either (looking at you Brent Burns)._

_ The NHL has green lighted the drafting of women, but no one actually expected any to actually make a team, but rumor has it that Tony Stark, who recently bought out the New York Islanders, plans to sign Natalia Romanova who currently plays in the KHL.  _

_ Gotta give the players something pretty to look at, right? Especially since the Islanders were bought out for a reason. They’re going downhill fast, and not even the darling of American hockey, Steve Rogers, has been enough to save them. _

_ Rogers and Romanova played together during the lockout for Dynamo Moscow.  _

 

Steve’s used to off-season shake-ups, he hates the end of the season not just because it means hockey’s over but because he never knows if this is the last time he’s going to play with a guy on his team. Every time he goes to locker room cleanout and tells the guys  _ good job this season _ and  _ we’ll come back stronger next year _ he can’t help but wonder if they’ll be with him next season.

He expected to have to say goodbye to Logan (the man doesn’t make a secret out of the fact that he wants off this team) or even Clint because there are at least five teams that are looking for a sniper of his caliber, but he never expected getting a new owner.

The lockout lasted a whole season, and he was going to spend his summer in Russia, training with Natalia and Bucky because who knew if it would spread to next season, but then the lockout was over and almost immediately it was announced that Tony Stark bought the Islanders and; well, Steve’s summer plans quickly became go back home and sit in endless press conferences.

Only, it doesn’t quite go that way.

Steve stumbles off the plane, rubbing his eyes and already cursing the jetlag that he knows is going to hit him hard in a couple hours, and heads for baggage claim. It takes four cycles of the conveyor belt for him to realize that his bag is nowhere to be seen.

Did it get lost during his layover?

Did someone recognize his gear bag and steal it?

It wouldn’t be the first time an overeager fan or a merch hunter took one of his sticks. It would be the first time someone took his whole bag. 

He pulls out his cell phone, a headache already building as he contemplates who to call. Airport security? His agent? 

He doesn’t really want to call Peggy, because she’ll tell him to take a few deep breaths and let her handle it when what Steve wants to do is find whoever’s guilty and start yelling. He didn’t just fly halfway across the world to find that his hockey gear is missing. And, more than that, the stick and jersey Bucky had given him.

James Buchanan Barnes was Steve’s neighbor growing up in Brooklyn. They spent every free moment they had playing street hockey, using garbage cans as goals and crushed soda cans or tennis balls as pucks. They didn’t wear any kind of equipment, and Steve got into more than one fight with kids bigger and older than him because they thought they could push him around. Bucky always jumped into the fights with him.

Steve used to joke that when they were in the NHL together, Bucky wouldn’t be able to jump to his defense because in real hockey goalies aren’t allowed to leave their creases to sucker punch other players.

But they never got to play in the NHL together, because Bucky’s parents moved to Russia taking Bucky with them, and Steve was left in Brooklyn by himself. He started hitting the gym, running and lifting weights, bulking up until he could hold his own in fights because he didn’t have Bucky to watch his back anymore.

Getting to play in the KHL with Bucky was almost a dream come true, but when the lockout ended Steve had to go home and Bucky had to stay.

They exchanged sticks and jerseys, and Bucky promised that he wouldn’t sign a contract extension. That he would come to the US and play for the Islanders.

Steve’s just staring helplessly at his phone when someone clears their throat behind him.

“Excuse me? Steve Rogers?”

Steve’s shoulders immediately stiffen before he forces himself to relax and turn around with a smile. He’d been hoping that the generic sweats and baseball cap would keep him from getting noticed, but it looks like today just isn’t his lucky day. 

But it’s not his fan’s fault that he’s miserable from having to say goodbye to his best friend (again), from losing his luggage, and from being crammed into an airplane seat that’s too small for him.

“Hey,” Steve says.

The woman in front of him is in a smart, tailored business suit, and usually his female fans are younger and decked out in Islanders’s gear from head to toe, but his smile doesn’t falter. It’s always good to branch out into new fan bases.

Something about her seems familiar, her polite smile or maybe the red hair, but he can’t quite place her.

“Pepper Potts,” she tells him. “We’ve got your luggage and a car waiting.”

“Uh,” Steve says stupidly. 

He definitely knows the name Pepper Potts. She’s not hockey, not an agent like Peggy, but he definitely knows her. 

“Mr. Stark didn’t tell you we were picking you up?” she asks.

That’s how he knows her! Pepper Potts is in charge of Tony Stark’s PR. Steve, who has an endorsement deal with Stark Tech and has been to a few of the man’s parties, can only imagine what a nightmare of a job she must have.

She sighs, a small moment of displeasure before she’s smiling again. “Mr. Stark wanted to meet with you before the media caught wind that you were back home.”

“Ah,” Steve says. “Wants to get the narrative straight?”

“Exactly,” Pepper says. “If you’ll come with me, Happy’s waiting for us.”

Happy turns out to be the driver, and Steve supposes he should consider himself lucky he’s not being picked up in a limo. Still, having Tony Stark’s personal driver and personal PR manager pick him up from the airport is a little intimidating.

Steve’s tried not to let his fame or the recent (almost exorbitant) contract he signed go to his head. He had a modest upbringing, and after his mom died he went to live with Colonel Phillips and his family until Steve was old enough to go to college. He went to UND on a full ride and even after getting drafted to the Islanders, he continued to live the way his mother brought him up, classy but not wasteful.

He set up the Sarah Rogers foundation that a portion of his salary goes to every year, a foundation that provides scholarships for young men and women looking to go into nursing school, and he has a nice two bedroom apartment in a private building, but mostly his money sits in his savings account unless an interesting charity catches his eye.

The only frivolous thing in his life is his motorcycle. The commentators like to talk about how dangerous it is, how it doesn’t fit with Steve’s image, but he makes a living as a hockey player. He’s much more likely to take a puck to the face than fall off his bike. 

Steve watches New York City through his window and wonders what changes Tony Stark has in mind as the new owner. Maybe he wants to completely rehaul the team. Could Steve be on the trading block?

He’d been honored when the Islanders took him first overall, not just because it meant all his work had paid off but because this is his hometown team. This is who he wants to play for his entire life.

Maybe Stark just wants to take the C away.

Steve’s been the captain since the start of his second season for the Islanders, and it would hurt if he lost it, but he won’t demand a trade over it. This team is  _ his _ , and he’ll lead it whether he’s got a C or an A or an empty spot on his jersey. 

He spends the whole ride spinning out worst case scenarios, and maybe that’s why the first thing he says when he sees the new owner of his team is not  _ hello _ or even  _ nice to meet you _ but, “If you move the team to LA then I will tank this team so hard we’ll make the Toronto Maple Leafs look good.”

He immediately regrets it because this is  _ Tony Stark _ also  _ his new owner and GM _ but Stark just laughs. “I think I like you. I reserve the right to change my mind, of course, but so far so good. I’m Tony Stark, obviously. And you’re Steve Rogers, America’s Golden Boy. Captain America, if you will.”

Steve was proud to represent his country at the Olympics, and even if the C felt like it was burning through his jersey every time he put on the red, white, and blue, he’d been proud to wear that too. He’s not a big fan of the Captain America jokes, and he’d been even less of a fan of their second place finish.

Next Olympics, he’s promised himself every day. Next Olympics they’re going to beat Canada for the gold medal. 

“Steve’s fine,” Steve tells him.

“Modest,” Stark says. “Modest is boring. Do you want a drink?”

“No thank you,” Steve says.

He’s not as straight-laced at the media makes him out to be - yes, he’s careful not to get caught drinking on camera, and he never lets himself get drunk in public, but he does drink. And one day, when his team lifts the Stanley Cup, he’s going to shower the whole room in champagne.

He knocks quietly on the coffee table.

Stark raises his eyebrows. “Having scandalous thoughts?”

Steve keeps his expression neutral. “Jinxes are real.”

Stark rolls his eyes and goes over to his bar to get himself a drink. “I forgot what a superstitious lot you hockey players are. No, don’t frown at me. Here, this should cheer you up, I’m not moving the team to LA. The Dodgers already did that. I’m a trailblazer, not a follower.”

Steve is proud of himself when he doesn’t roll his eyes. Instead, he sits down on one of the massive white couches in the room. “But you are moving them,” he says.

“Yes. And renaming, rebranding, everything. You’re going to get new jerseys, a new stadium, a fresh new start.”

Steve’s immediately wary. He has a vision of the team in gaudy red and gold jerseys with Tony Stark’s face on them. He might actually prefer to move to LA even if that would make four teams in California. They could be the LA Palm Trees and that would be less embarrassing than whatever Tony has planned. 

“Mr. Stark,” Pepper Potts chides.

“Ah,” Stark says. He appears to take a deep breath as he brings his now full glass over to the couch across from Steve’s. “I’m getting ahead of myself. Your position on the team is a secure. You’re going to stay in the top d-pairing, and you’re going to keep your C unless you epically screw up, but I don’t think screwing up is in your programming or whatever made you into the perfect human being you are.”

“I’m not perfect,” Steve says, “And I got where I am through hard work.”

Stark waves his hand, dismissing him. “Boring. Anyways, we’re rebranding around  _ you _ .”

That catches Steve’s interest. “Excuse me?”

“You’re the darling of the league and the country, and, let’s be honest here, I’m not. We want the focus of the team to be on your bright shining example and not my numerous faults.”

This sounds like Steve’s going to be under even  _ more _ media scrutiny. But if it means he gets to keep his team, if it means they have the chance at becoming as great as he’s always believed them to be -

Steve squares his shoulders. “What do you need me to do?”

Stark looks surprised at Steve’s easy acquiescence but he quickly starts talking before Steve can change his mind. “Look, there are three New York teams. The Buffalo Sabres obviously have Buffalo, but the New York Islanders and the New York Rangers - that’s too much New York. We should go back to our roots. The Brooklyn Avengers has a nice ring, doesn’t it?”

Steve’s mouth drops. “Brooklyn?”

“I’m thinking the Barclays Center. We’ll have to do some minor renovations, because you can’t see the whole rink from every seat, but that’ll be done in time for the season to start.”

“What’s an avenger?” Steve asks.

Tony shrugs. “What’s a wild? Not even Minnesota knows. I’m thinking a silver A with the left slash a little longer than the right one. My design team tells me that’s too similar to the Avalanche, but I’m not sure I care.”

“Right,” Steve says. “So, new name, new jerseys, new building.”

“New brand,” Tony says. “It’s what you need.”

“What else are you changing?”

“Meet your new PR manager,” Tony says with a wave towards Pepper. “Phil Coulson is going to be your new coach once I finish hammering out the contact and -”

“Phil Coulson?” Steve interrupts. “The same Phil Coulson that played with Commissioner Fury?”

They had been amazing on the ice together, but after the skate blade that cut across Fury’s face and cost him an eye and almost more, they’d both retired. Fury worked his way up to commissioner the NHL while Phil Coulson started doing the rounds as an assistant coach to basically every team that’s had any kind of success the past two decades. 

“Don’t  _ you _ start getting heart eyes too,” Stark says. “He’s too old for you.”

“No problem with him being a man, though?” Steve asks.

Stark looks up at him, serious for the first time this whole conversation. “I’m hoping to sign the first woman to an NHL team, and you think I have a problem with two dudes getting it on? Hell, as long as no one on the team objects, I don’t care if you have a circle jerk in the showers.”

“I object,” Pepper says, “Not to you dating whoever you like but to the team orgies in the locker room. That’s not good press. And it plays into the exact stereotypes we don’t want if we’re going to try and make hockey more inclusive.”

Steve would never do anything in the locker room, because that just seems incredibly unhygienic (plus stupid with all the camera phones these days) but the thought that he might not have to hide that he’d rather date a nice boy than a nice girl?

No.

He’s getting ahead of himself.

He needs to focus on hockey. Tony Stark is revamping the team to make it a playoff contender not so Steve can start dating. 

“I’m getting distracted,” Tony says. “Stop distracting me. We need to talk team acquisitions next. Clint Barton stays. He’s one of the most highly skilled players I’ve ever seen. When he’s got an open shot on net, it’s amazing what he can do. Which means he needs someone who can get him the puck from basically anywhere and someone to keep the other team from targeting him. Ideas?”

“Natalia,” Steve says. “I played with her during the lockout. She’s the best playmaker I’ve ever seen. You think Nicklas Backstrom is good? She’s better.”

“For size, I was thinking Bruce Banner,” Tony says.

Steve...he thinks about that for a minute. Banner plays for Edmonton so Steve hasn’t played against him often, and he’s considered too unstable to be named to Team USA so Steve’s never played with him. He’s a good player, responsible in his own zone, scoring 10-20 goals a season, but sometimes it’s like a flip switches with him and he goes; well, feral’s the only word Steve can think to describe it.

He gets  _ nasty _ , and he’s never seriously hurt someone in what the announcers like to call his Hulk mode, but he does usually end up in the box for a cross check or a trip or even starting a brawl. Of course, nasty might just be what they need to keep Clint from getting crushed into the boards every other play.

“He might work,” Steve says.

Tony takes out his phone and makes a few notes. “The other major trade I’m thinking is I want the Norwegians.”

There are over 5 million Norwegians in the world, but Steve knows exactly which two Stark is talking about.

“No,” Steve says.

Thor Odinson and Loki Laufeyson are brothers, the Odinsons adopting Loki after he billeted with them, and they’re amazingly skilled, but they’re also unpredictable. It’s a toss-up whether they play the kind of seamless hockey the Sedins are known for or whether Loki’s going to high stick Thor because of some argument they have over breakfast.

“We need some flair on our team,” Tony says, “and I’m confident in your ability to handle them as their captain.”

Fucking hell, Steve thinks. “Alright, who else?”

“Wade Wilson is a UFA. I want to give him a trial tryout.”

“Yes,” Steve says, because that one’s easy.

Wilson had a strong rookie season and an even stronger sophomore season, but during the off-season a routine physical showed the beginning stages of cancer. He went through treatment, and it’s in remission, but he’s been labeled a wild card and has spent the past three years bouncing around the minors with the occasional NHL call-up.

He deserves the chance to play hockey, and Steve wants to give him that.

“Draft,” Tony says. “I know you’ve been paying attention. “Who do you think we should go after?”

“Peter Parker,” Steve says immediately.

“What?” Tony asks. “He’s not even in my top 10!”

“And your top 9 will be drafted before we get a pick,” Steve says. “I’m not saying use our first round pick on him, and I’m not saying sign him to an NHL contract right away. Draft him and send him to Bridgeport to get some experience. He’ll be a good player in a couple years. Or maybe he’ll be a good player now.”

“Ugh,” Tony says, “Long term strategy,”

Steve smiles, sharp, because this is where he excels. “You want Bobby Drake for the same reason.”

“Yes, yes,” Tony says, “But what about players for  _ now _ ?”

“That’s what trades and free agent signings are for,” Steve says. “You - you’re not going to turn this team around in just one year.”

“Where’s your optimism?” Tony asks, but he doesn’t seem angry. “Fine. There’s one more thing we need to talk about before I leave you to Ms. Potts. Your d-partner.”

Steve hasn’t had a steady partner in two years. Their previous coach rotated the baby d-men so they all got to play with Steve and benefit from his experience and so he could help mitigate the mistakes they made. And while that’s good for training new d-men, and Steve will do whatever his coach asks - it’s not exactly good for their team.

Steve not having a steady partner means communication breakdowns, and it means that it was usually him and a rookie against the other team’s top line, and he can’t cover both his zone and his partner’s. The thought of having a real partner again; well, he’s excited.

“I’m working out the details on a trade for Sam Wilson,” Tony says, casual, like this isn’t a fucking bombshell.

Sam Wilson and Riley Wilcox were  _ the  _ best d-pairing in maybe even the history of the NHL before Wilcox’s career ending knee injury. Wilson hasn’t played the same since losing him, and every year rumors float around that he’s going to retire early, but he hasn’t yet.

Steve thinks of himself as a pretty good defenseman but having to fill the shoes of Riley Wilcox? That’s a lot to ask. 

“He wants to play with you,” Tony says. “He says he was thinking about getting out, but if anyone’s worth sticking in the NHL for it’s you.” Tony makes a face. “If you two work out as a pairing, I’m totally making a Lifetime movie about it.”

“And that’s my cue,” Pepper says. “Mr. Stark, you should go work on your new skate design while I discuss with Mr. Rogers how he should answer the media’s questions in regards to all of your plans.”

Steve can see the delight on Stark’s face, can only predict the number of things he’s got to say about ‘Mr. Rogers’ and he cuts them off by saying, “Just Steve is fine, Ms. Potts.”

“Pepper,” she tells him. “We’re going to be working a lot together this season. Lucky for me, you not only have media training, but you actually follow it.”

She gives Stark a pointed look.

He mumbles something about preventing foot bruises and heads down the hallway. 

“Now,” Pepper says once it’s just the two of them. “Language is incredibly important, especially the language you’re going to use to talk about the first woman in the NHL.”

Steve knocks on the table again and flushes when Pepper arches her eyebrows. “She hasn’t signed yet.”

“Right,” Pepper says. “Anyways, everyone’s going to want to catch you saying the wrong thing or saying something they can twist into a headline. Here’s what I want you to say…”

~*~

Steve’s sitting a long table that only highlights how he’s the only person sitting at it, and smiles even through the camera flashes as he holds his first press conference as captain of the Brooklyn Avengers. There’s an empty chair to his left with a placard that reads  _ Tony Stark _ , and Steve doesn’t know why Stark isn’t here, but he thinks it might be better that he’s not.

Because when the first sports writer asks, “Tony Stark is known for being flighty. How long until he grows bored of being an NHL owner?” Steve’s the only one there to answer, and his ego isn’t bruised by the question.

“Tony Stark has always been interested in hockey,” Steve answers. “When he took over Stark Industries, one of the first things he did was add hockey to the sports equipment his company designs and manufactures.”

“Why now?”

“I don’t know,” Steve answers truthfully. “That’s something you’ll have to ask Mr. Stark, but I’m grateful he chose to take interest now. He’s clearly planned a big shake-up of the team, and that’s always tough, but I think it’s the wake-up call we need. I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but we haven’t been playing so hot recently.”

Steve laughs, self-deprecating, and looks out at the crowd to see who ducks their head. Some of his most vicious critics are in this room, and even the writers who want to have faith in the team they write for have written a few articles about the team’s struggles and if there’s a way to get back on track without a complete rebuild.

“What kind of shake-ups can we expect?” Christine Everhart asks.

“You’ll have to wait for Mr. Stark’s announcements on those,” Steve says. “Nothing is certain until the contracts are signed.”

She looks disappointed, but Steve hasn’t slipped up in all his years of doing press, and he has no intention of starting now. 

“Speaking of contracts,” a young woman in the second row says. “Is it true that Natalia Romanova signed with the Avengers?”

The woman - Skye - runs one of Steve’s favorite blogs. He knows a lot of the reporters look down on the bloggers, but Steve likes them. They care enough about their sport or their team enough to spend their free time talking about them. It doesn’t get much cooler than that.

“She did,” Steve says. “She’s the first signing made under Mr. Stark’s ownership.”

“Do you think having a woman in the locker room will be distracting?” a man in the back asks.

Skye and Ms. Everhart both scowl and then give Steve a look that says  _ you better get this question right _ .

“No,” Steve says then looks over at Luke Cage. “Your question?”

He looks surprised to be called on or maybe surprised that Steve didn’t have a longer answer and he fumbles with his phone for a moment before he says, “You played with Romanova during the lockout. Did you tell Mr. Stark you wanted her on the team?”

“I don’t think you understand the relationship between players and owners,” Steve says with a small laugh. A few of the reporters laugh with him. “I don’t tell Mr. Stark to do anything. But you’re right, I did play with Natalia during the lockout, and if you saw any of the press I did over there, I was quite vocal about her skill level. I’m glad she’s signed with our team, I think she’ll be a good fit.”

“On and off the ice?” someone mutters.

Steve pretends he didn’t hear.

“Will Romanova continue to play wing?” Everhart asks.

“That’s a decision the coaching staff will make,” Steve says.

“We heard there were changes there too,” someone says.

“Yes. Coach Phil Coulson has joined our staff,” Steve says. “I’m looking forward to seeing what system he puts in place for the team.”

“He’s very traditional,” the reporter follows up. “How do you think that’ll fit with Stark’s...eccentric behavior?”

“I think that’s a question for Mr. Stark,” Steve says. He looks back at where Pepper’s standing off to the side.

“Last question,” she says and everyone starts shouting at once.


	2. Chapter 2

Steve had planned on training in Russia during the summer, but Dr. Erskine, his trainer, had been understanding about the change in plans, and Steve gets back to his regular summer routine pretty quickly after getting back to the States. 

Steve had met Dr. Erskine at the gym, when Steve was still reeling from Bucky’s move and was convinced that he’d be able to hold his own in a fight if he did a million bicep curls every week. He’s not sure what Dr. Erskine saw in the skinny, angry kid Steve was back then, but he’d come up to Steve while he was doing shoulder shrugs and asked him why he was lifting. Steve started talking about hockey and bullies and how Steve wasn’t going to let anyone push him out of the sport he loved, but it would be nice if he actually felt like he belonged on the ice. Dr. Erskine put together a lifting program for him, and he’s been here for Steve from midget to high school to college and now to the NHL. 

Steve’s not his only client, not even his only hockey client, but Steve thinks he might be Dr. Erskine’s favorite. 

“Hmm,” Dr. Erskine frowns at their first session. He pokes Steve’s stomach. “Russian food didn’t agree with you?”

“I ate,” Steve says, tempted to wrap his arms protectively around his midsection. “We went to the finals, you know. We won the Gagarin Cup.”

Not the Cup Steve wants, but winning with Bucky was still pretty awesome.

“Too skinny,” Dr. Erskine says. “We’ll work on it.”

That means a lot of protein shakes in Steve’s future. He’s going to need to pick up some bananas at the store. Chocolate, peanut butter, banana shakes. All the flavors are almost enough to cover the gritty protein powder. 

“I had a good season,” Steve says, because even though he’s a grown man now, he still wants Dr. Erskine’s approval. 

“Not just because of the shiny cup you won,” Dr. Erskine says. 

“That didn’t hurt,” Steve says with a smile. 

Dr. Erskine cuffs Steve’s shoulder. “Yes, you haven’t lost your sense of humor. Come, time to deadlift. Your legs are weak.”

“My legs aren’t weak!” Steve protests but he obediently goes over to the lifting platform.  

~*~

“There’s something we haven’t addressed yet,” Steve says at his weekly meeting with Mr. Stark. 

“There are a lot of things we haven’t talked about,” Stark says. “What’s got your jock in a twist?”

Steve winces at that particular image. “If you want us to be competitive then we need a goalie.”

“We have two goalies already.”

Steve shakes his head. “Not a true, A+ goalie. We’ve got two decent ones, and if you want to try and be the first to win with a goaltending duo then that’s your decision, but I don’t think you’ll be successful. We need a strong goalie.”

“Let me guess,” Stark says, “You’ve got one in mind.”

Steve’s smile is sharp before he says, “Just so happens that I do. Bucky Barnes.”

Stark’s mouth drops, and Steve’s proud of himself for finally managing to shock the man.

“You do realize he has one of the most ironclad contracts in the world, right?” Stark asks, and if he knows that, that means he’s looked into Bucky. It means he wants Bucky on their team just as bad as Steve does.

“I thought contracts were your thing,” Steve says, light, casual, like he isn’t daring Tony Stark to try and steal Bucky out from underneath the KHL’s nose.

“We’re not going to make any friends if we take Romanova and Barnes from Dynamo,” Stark says. He’s quiet for a moment before he shrugs and says, “I’ve always been more interested in winning than friends.”

“You won’t regret getting him,” Steve promises.

~*~

Steve goes to Nashville for the draft, and he smiles for the cameras and lets a crew film him trying on cowboys boots and a hat that he has no intention of buying, and he’s relieved when he gets to the hotel and everyone loses interest in him to pay attention to the prospects instead.

Everyone’s expecting Kurt Wagner to be drafted first overall. He’ll be the first German born player to go first in the draft, and Steve thinks he deserves it. Steve’s never seen someone who can move as fast as Wagner can. He can break through d-men like they’re not even there, deke a goalie until his head is spinning and then just tap the puck into the goal. 

The Avengers have the third pick in the draft, not the first, and Steve’s positive Wagner’s going to be an Oiler. Even if for some reason the Oilers pass on him, there’s no way the Maple Leafs won’t. 

The other big name at this year’s draft is Gabriel Summers. His oldest brother Scott plays goalie for the San Jose Sharks, and Scott gives Jonathan Toews a run for his money on who has the best laser eyes. The middle brother, Alex, is a sniper for the Tampa Bay Lightning. Gabriel’s the youngest Summers sibling, and Steve’s heard rumors that he’s the most talented. 

Of course, having the pressure of living up to not just one but two older brothers in the league might prove to be too much.

Steve isn’t surprised when Kurt Wagner goes first to Edmonton. He’s a little surprised when Toronto picks Piotr Nikolaievitch second. Then Steve’s up, given the honor of announcing Bobby Drake as their pick.

Down the line it goes, Tampa Bay selecting Gabriel (a bold choice in Steve’s view, putting two brothers on the same team), LA selecting Warren Kenneth Worthington III (good luck fitting that on a jersey), and it goes on and on until Russell Brown is selected with the final pick of the draft. 

Steve mingles at the after-draft party, making sure he’s seen to reassure anyone who thought the Avengers were going to tank under Tony Stark’s ownership.

Steve goes back to Brooklyn after the draft, confident that their team is headed in the right direction. They got Muñoz, got Parker, got Drake, and several other players that make the future of their franchise look bright. 

But as bright as their future looks, Steve’s job is to make the present look good, and he throws himself into training as soon as he’s back in Brooklyn. He finally starts to put on his summer bulk, he willingly gives a soundbite to every reporter or write who wants them as Stark begins signing people to their team. 

They sign Sam Wilson, trade for the Norwegian brothers, trade for Bruce as well. 

The signing Steve’s anticipating the most, of course, is for Bucky, and that’s the one he’s most uncertain they’re going to get. 

Sam Wilson was an unrestricted free agent so getting him was a matter of convincing him Brooklyn is where he wants to be. Trades are trickier, and trades across leagues are the trickiest of them all.

Steve wears his lucky boxers to bed every night, and two weeks before training camp starts, all his hoping and wishing comes true when Stark calls him to tell him that they’ve signed Bucky.

“Are you serious?” Steve leaping off his couch. 

“James Barnes signed with us,” Stark says, and Steve can hear the excitement in his voice. “Because I am the master of contracts.”

“You aren’t going to regret this,” Steve promises. 

As soon as he’s off the phone with Stark, Steve strips out of all the clothes he’s wearing and puts them in a box. This is his new lucky outfit. Anytime he needs a little bit of luck these are the clothes he’s going to pull out. He doesn’t want to use up all the luck, though, so he’ll store them here until he needs them again.

Steve has the time to send out a quick email to Bucky, and it’s just four lines of exclamation points, before he has to go to his first press conference about the signing.

“First you signed Natalia Romanova,” Christine Everhart says, “Now James Barnes. Are you on a mission to get all the players you played with in Moscow on the Avengers?”

“I mean, if Ovechkin wants to sign with the Avengers, I certainly won’t say no,” Steve says, and he laughs, inviting the reporters to laugh along with him.

It’s a good start to the press conference.

~*~

Bucky doesn’t answer Steve’s email, and at first Steve’s feelings are a little hurt, but after a couple days without hearing anything from him - no emails, no texts, Bucky even misses their weekly Skype meeting - Steve begins to worry. 

He manages to get ahold of Natasha - Bucky’s phone goes straight to voicemail - and what she has to say isn’t super encouraging. “His passport is missing,” she says.

“What do you mean missing?” It’s a week until training camp. Steve thought they’d be here as soon as the signing was announced. If they don’t get here in the next few days then they’re not going to have time to get over their jet lag before training camp. “Is Bucky there? Can I talk to him?”

“You get me,” Natasha says. “We’ll get it back. I promise.”

“I thought you said it was missing. Now it sounds like someone took it.”

“Lukin wasn’t eager to part ways with James.”

Yeah, that really doesn’t sound good, Steve thinks. “Is there anything I can do?”

“Be patient, don’t cause a fuss, and make sure the team’s ready to go when we get there.”

Steve grins even though Natasha won’t be able to see it through the phone. “Yes, ma’am. I’ll see you when you get stateside.”

~*~

Steve does his best to push the Natasha and Bucky situation out of his head. There’s nothing he can do to help which means he should focus on what he should be doing.

It’s both easier and harder when training camp starts and they’re not there.

Harder, because the season’s beginning and there are two empty stalls in the locker room, but easier because Steve can throw himself into hockey.

Steve spent the night before training camp double and triple-checking the roster so when he gets to camp the next day he can greet everyone by name.

“McCoy, glad to see you here, great season in Bridgeport last year,” Steve says clapping him on the back. “T’Challa, how was Wakanda?”

“It was good to be home,” T’Challa, one of the few returning d-men from last year, say. “It is good to be back here as well.”

“Wilson,” Steve says, holding a hand out. “Pleasure having you onboard.”

Sam Wilson stops fiddling with his straps and shakes Steve’s hand. “Excited to be playing here.”

“Well,” Logan drawls from the other side of the room. “The forwards going to get any love or are you already playing favorites?”

“Captains don’t have favorites,” Steve says and then pointedly goes to greet Reed Richards, their returning goalie.

“Fuck you too,” Logan says.

The new blood in the locker room goes still, uneasy, but they relax when Steve just laughs.

“Season can begin,” Steve says, “I’ve been cussed out by the Wolverine.”

Logan went to the University of Michigan where he was a top line forward, and Steve’s not sure how he picked up the nickname wolverine - he’s pretty sure there was drinking and dares involved and possibly stealing the mascot - but it’s stuck with him through college and now into the NHL.

He’s also made it his mission to debunk the myth of the polite Canadian; though, as Steve often points out to him, as rough and crass as he gets in the locker room, he keeps it away from the cameras. 

“Sidney Crosby would make sad, disappointed eyes at me,” Logan explained the first time Steve pointed this out. “He’s like a national icon. You just don’t do that.”

Steve can’t give him too hard a time about it, because Steve knows all about the difference between public and private personas. He’s somehow gotten the American as apple piece and sweet as sugar reputation that makes him a good face of the Avengers franchise and means he has to be real careful when they mic him up, because when the cameras aren’t on, Steve curses as much as the next hockey player.

Steve continues to mingle, having gotten to the rink early enough to get his gear on before everyone else showed up, and he asks about Thor and Loki’s summer (and gets two vastly different responses) and tells Peter to relax, and tells Wade Wilson he’s glad to have him here.

Wade’s mouth twists, losing his smile for a second. “Didn’t you hear? I’m a cancer in the locker room.”

“Fuck whoever said that,” Steve tells him, dead serious. “You’re one of us. That means anyone who wants to talk shit has to go through me first.”

“Not one of you yet,” Wade says. “Gotta make the team first.”

“You’re either here or in Bridgeport,” Steve says. “Either way, you’re one of us.”

Coach Coulson interrupts Steve’s hellos to introduce himself and the rest of the coaching staff that will be evaluating them during camp. They also get their first Coach speech of the year, and a shiver goes down Steve’s spine, because this is it, this is real - a new season is about to start. 

~*~

After their first practice, Steve drags everyone to a restaurant he’s already called ahead to and prepared for a large group of raucous hockey players. Steve presents the owner with a signed and framed Avengers jersey, but he makes a note to himself to give their waitresses a generous tip, because they’re the ones who’re going to have to put up with his team.

At least it’s not as bad as it could be.

After big wins, Steve’s seen players get up on tables or pour beer down each other’s throats.

After the first day of training camp, everyone, even the veteran players are exhausted. The difference between the vets and the new guys is that the old ones (Steve includes himself in this) are feeling the ache in their knees and their backs, in places where they’ve been injured before while the new guys are struggling to stay awake.

He sees Wade and Loki with their heads bent, whispering to each other, and Steve’s pretty sure they’re betting on which of the new players is going to fall asleep out first. 

As soon as they’re done, Loki starts trying to convince Bobby to order the spaghetti and meatballs which definitely means they’re betting on the babies and it means Loki’s hoping Bobby’ll fall asleep first.

“You’re not going to put a stop to that?” Sam asks from Steve’s left.

“Nah,” Steve says. “Let them have their fun.”

He’s all for teasing the new players, and once they’ve got a team and a new crop of rookies Steve will be first in line to prank them, but he’s also the one who makes sure teasing and pranking doesn’t tip over into hazing territory. 

Steve’s been the little guy on the team (before his growth spurt hit) and he’s been the young guy on the team, and he’s experienced his fair share of both heckling and hazing.  Pranks and practical jokes can be a great way to bring a team together, but hazing is how you rip it apart. 

“In that case,” Sam says, and he folds a ten dollar bill up into a paper airplane and flies it into Wade’s lap.

Wade looks up, a little surprised, and Sam tilts his head towards Peter. Wade gives a little shake of his head and then (very obviously) looks over at McCoy.

Sam shrugs and Wade writes something down, and Steve pretends he’s been interested in his water the whole time.

“You not getting in on the action?” Sam asks.

“A captain should stay above the fray,” Steve says, turning his nose up, but he can only holds the position for a couple seconds before he breaks down laughing. 

“You’re an asshole,” Sam tells him, punching his shoulder. “I like it.”

In the end, it’s Hank who falls asleep first, but he doesn’t do anything dramatic like faceplant into his food. He just tilts his head back against his chair and then his eyes close and his mouth falls open, and Steve lets the guys get a few pictures in before he wakes the kid up.

It’s about time for them to be breaking up anyways, and Steve sends the new kids back to the hotel under T’Challa’s supervision and then he corners Wade and holds out an expectant hand.

“I don’t remember you putting money in the pool,” Wade says.

“Do you know what I remember?” Steve asks. “Seeing you poke and pinch a certain long limbed winger so he wouldn’t be the first to fall asleep.”

He hadn’t realized what Wade was doing right away to Peter, but keeping him awake in order to win the bet is definitely cheating. 

Wade sighs but slaps two twenties in Steve’s palm. “Happy?”

Steve arches his eyebrows and Wade gives him another two.

“You’ve now bought my silence,” Steve says.

He detours back into the restaurant to put the four twenties on their table, an extra extra tip for their waitresses before going back to his apartment.

~*~

Training camp is hard work, and even though Steve would have to epically screw up to keep from being named to the Avengers’s roster, he brings his best to every session, every drill, because he’s the captain which means he has to set the example.

He sets the example for the returning players who have all but a guaranteed shot showing them that they don’t have an excuse to slack off. He sets the example for the young kids, shows them the kind of work ethic they should try to have. He even, in some ways, sets the example for the coaching staff, because he’s showing them what they should expect from him and every other player every single day for the rest of the season. 

Steve’s been on a struggling team since he got to the league, and he knows you don’t get a lot of second chances in hockey. This is his second chance, his team’s second chance, and he’s going to make sure they make the most of it.

Tony Stark crashes their third practice, coming down to ice level to watch them warm-up. 

Steve’s not the only one who feels like he needs to play harder, give more, because their owner is watching. 

“Quicker!” Steve calls out as Logan and Peter go up against T’Challa on a 2-on-1 drill. “Spread out, make him commit to one of you.”

Peter defers to Logan which everyone knew he would, and both T’Challa and Richards cheat towards Logan, and T’Challa blocks the shot so it doesn’t even reach Richards.

Peter skates back to the end of the forwards line with his head hanging, and Steve tells Sam to take the next defense spot and skates over to Peter.

You’re here for a reason,” Steve says, nudging Peter out of line so they can at least pretend they have some privacy. “You’ve got skill. Use it.”

“But he’s  _ the Wolverine _ ,” Peter hisses, casting a look over at Logan.

“Which means he’s good at shooting goals, but he’s also good at setting them up. Don’t be afraid to shoot.”

“How are you supposed to know?” Peter asks. “Shoot or pass?”

Steve taps Peter’s helmet. “You’ll feel it. Now get back in line. Pair up with Thor. Let him make space for you and see what happens.”

Peter nods and scrambles back into line.

“Nice advice there, Cap,” Stark says as Steve skates back to the defense line. 

Steve frowns a little, but he doesn’t think much of it as he gets in line behind Hank. When it’s his turn, he’s up against Loki and Wade, and he pressures Wade until he passes the puck to Loki, and then he stays in the passing lane so Richards only has to focus on Loki. Richards gets an easy stop, and Steve’s smiling as he gets back in line.

“Nice one, Cap,” Sam says, tapping his helmet.

“No,” Steve says, because he’s not getting stuck with that nickname.

Sam shrugs. “Who am I to say our owner’s wrong?”

Steve’s next turn up, he lays out across the ice, and Thor’s shot hits Steve’s shoulder and then skitters to the near boards.

“Thanks, Cap,” Richards says, nudging Steve with his blocker.

“You too?” Steve asks.

“Logan says it’s a thing,” Richards says. “Now get off. It’s Bobby’s turn, and he’s not getting this one by me.”

Steve’s surprised by Stark sticking around the whole practice. He leaves long enough to grab a hot dog from somewhere and a couple times he’s on his tablet when Steve glances over, but having him there is definitely a big morale boost.

“I wasn’t doing it for morale,” Stark says when Steve mentions it to him.

Steve helped Peter and Bobby clean up the pucks from practice and then sent them to the locker room without him, because he figured Stark stuck around for a reason.

“I was doing it for inspiration.” Stark turns his tablet to show Steve what looks like - a skate design maybe?

“It was good for you to be here,” Steve says. “Maybe lay off the Cap thing though.”

Stark grins. “You didn’t like that? I mean, I was going to go with Captain America, but that’s quite the mouthful. Cap’s much easier.”

You captain the USA at Worlds  _ once  _ and you’re saddled with being Captain America for the rest of your life. Steve can’t even get mad, because being able to wear the C on a red, white, and blue jersey - he’s not sure anything in his life will ever top that. 

“Fine,” Steve says. “You drew a bit and gave me a nickname. Any other reason you stopped by?”

“A guy can’t check out the chances of getting a return on his investment?”

Steve fixes him with a look.

“We’ve lost communication with Romanova and Barnes,” Stark says. “I wanted you to hear it from me instead of a reporter or a news alert.”

“Lost communication?” Steve asks. He sits down, heavy, on the bench. 

“They straight up lost them. I’ve been told that’s a good thing. If they’re missing then they’re probably on their way here. Just being sneaky about it. Romanova has a sneaky air about her.”

Bucky and Natasha missing and it’s supposed to be a good thing?

“I’m saving slots for them,” Stark says, like he realizes Steve needs to be cheered up. “I believe they’re coming.”

“I want to,” Steve says, “but you know when you feel like you’re getting what you’ve always wanted, and you’re certain it has to be a trick?”

Stark’s still for a moment before he very slowly nods.

“Yeah,” Steve says, exhaling a long breath. “That’s how this feels. Um, I guess I should’ve said this before, but I’m going to give you the best I’ve got. It doesn’t matter who you surround me with. The Avengers are going to be a team to be reckoned with.”

“I know,” Stark says, “There’s a reason I picked you to build a team around.”

“Um,” Steve says, because ‘thank you’ doesn’t quite work as a response to a loaded statement like that.

It’s the most genuine he’s ever heard Stark be, and the man must come to the same conclusion because he pushes off the pane of plexiglass he’d been leaning against. 

“Well,” Stark says, brushing imaginary dust off his suit. “Time to go convince one of the kids that the only way to get a spot on the team is to agree to be a test subject for my new equipment line.”

“Don’t even try it,” Steve says, but he smiles and lets Stark change the subject. “Peter’s probably gullible enough that he’d let you.”

“He looked pretty good today. A little starstruck.”

“That’s normal,” Steve says. “And honestly, I like it better than the ones who swagger in like the league is theirs. It’s better to grow confidence from a low point then having to break it and rebuild it.”

“Drake seems like a good one too. Weird though. I’m pretty sure he got here early just to commune with the ice or something.”

“Should’ve been a goalie,” Steve says, laughing. “Want to say something to the guys before you head out? It’d mean a lot to them.”

Stark rolls his eyes, but Steve doesn’t miss the excited glint in his eye as he leads Steve down to the locker room. 


	3. Chapter 3

Steve dumps a hockey player serving of spaghetti on his plate and then divides the rest of it into five large Tupperware containers. It takes maybe ten minutes to cook spaghetti, but it only takes two minutes to heat it up and those eight minutes make all the difference after a day packed full of practice and media and rookie wrangling and whatever else is on his schedule for the season.

Steve divides up his pasta sauce (homemade, thank you very much) the same way and then his meatballs. By the time he’s done, he’s got today’s lunch and the rest of the week’s lunch ready to go. 

He takes his plate and wanders into his living room to turn on NHLN to see what they have to say about the season so far.

Thaddeus “Thunderbolt” Ross, retired Flyer and now full-time commentator pops up on screen and Steve sticks his tongue out at the TV. Ross isn’t one of his favorite commentators. He’s one of those guys who’ll lambast people for dirty hits while conveniently forgetting that dirty hits were the foundation of his own career.

Steve’s not a fan of the illegal stuff - he doesn’t mind a rough game, but there are standards. Knee on knee is a big no-no, contact to the head, knocking defenseless people in the boards. Steve wants nothing to do with any of that stuff, but Ross plays favorites - demonizing certain players for the way they play while exalting other players for doing the exact same thing.

“The Avengers are no stranger to controversy,” Ross says, the new logo popping up next to his head, “and their new owner is a genius, but a couple of his recent moves have left me scratching my head. Bruce Banner, really?” 

The Avengers logo is replaced with an unflattering picture of Bruce during a game, green mouthguard bared as he battles for the puck.

“This guy is a penalty magnet. All you’ve got to do is give him one little crosscheck, and he loses it.”

A clip pops up of Emil Blonsky, the biggest and baddest of this generation’s Bruins, giving Bruce more than ‘a little’ crosscheck. There are some words exchanged as well and then Bruce is throwing off his gloves and throwing Blonsky to the ground.

Out of context, the clip looks bad, but Steve remembers this moment, because the full clip was played for weeks after it happened.

Blonsky went after Rick Jones, Edmonton’s star rookie defenseman, cross checking him in the back of the head and sending him to the ice. The refs hadn’t noticed, because Lucic was pestering Edmonton’s goalie, and when Bruce had words with Blonsky about what he did, he cross checked Bruce the exact same way, and Steve’s guessing whatever commentary he had to add wasn’t very kind.

Steve would’ve dropped his gloves for that, would’ve dropped them just for the cross check on his player, and no number of edited clips or commentary from Ross is going to change his mind about Bruce.

He’s a top 6 forward, and he looks out for his team.

That makes him a good teammate in Steve’s book.

Pierre McGuire’s the next up on the pre-season special, and Steve gives up and turns off his TV. 

~*~

Training camp ends with a big party at Tony Stark’s mansion for everyone who made the team. The roster isn’t completely settled yet; preseason will let them feel out some of the younger guys to see if they’re a better fit up here or in Bridgeport, and Steve’s still hoping that Natasha and Bucky are going to make it onto the final roster.

First they have to make it to the US.

There’s still no word on them, and Steve feels weird going to a party when his best friend is missing.

But Steve’s the captain, and it’s a captain’s job to celebrate his team so Steve gets to the party early to help set up and so he can have his smile in place by the time everyone else starts arriving. 

“I’d give you the tour, but we don’t have time for that,” Stark says when Steve shows up, a plate of homemade cookies in his hands.

“Is it true you’ve got an ice rink in your basement?” Steve asks, following Stark to where there are lines of picnic tables loaded with food.

The party’s in the backyard, and the tables are set up on the stone patio that overlooks the pool. There’s also a sand volleyball court and then a ton of grass, and Stark’s got a couple lawn games set up - cornhole, ladder golf, possibly croquet. Steve doesn’t want to know how much this place is worth. The fact that Stark’s got this much of a backyard in the middle of the city is enough to make his head turn.

“Yes but no, no one’s going on it today,” Stark says. “You’re taking a break from hockey.”

“Fine,” Steve says but he can’t help the longing look he sends towards the mansion. 

Steve spent his childhood playing street hockey in alleyways or waking up ridiculously early to try and squeeze a half hour in at the local rink. The thought of having an ice rink in your house that you can use whenever you want? It’s a little overwhelming.

Steve kind of wants to copy it.

He knows a couple of guys with houses, but he hasn’t gotten himself one yet. It seems like a waste of space for just him, and he’s got enough nostalgia in him that he’s living in an apartment in his old neighborhood.

He’s living in a nicer apartment than he grew up in, because he can’t be kept awake by babies crying through paper thin walls or the clunky heater that never quite worked right. He has a strict sleep schedule to keep, and he can’t afford to be thrown off it for nostalgia’s sake. 

“I’m sure this won’t be the only time everyone comes over,” Stark says, following Steve’s gaze. “Pepper’s already making a fuss about having a Christmas-something here.

“Logan’ll be happy,” Steve says. He’s one of the few older guys with a house which means all team functions inevitably end up being hosted there, and Logan complains every time even though he gets to keep all the leftover beer at the end of the night. 

Leftover food always gets sent home with the rookies, because they struggle with basic things like boiling water. 

“I didn’t realize happy was an emotion Logan experienced,” Stark says. “I thought his range was pissed off to ‘damn right we won we’re better than you’.”

“Accurate,” Steve says. “But you’re forgetting ‘you damn rookies, get off my lawn’.”

Stark laughs and two cameras immediately swing their way.

Steve has to fight his urge to turn to them - it’s always an adjustment going from the relative privacy of the off-season to having cameras  _ everywhere _ . There are camera crews at practice, in the locker room, at games, hovering around the complex to watch them enter, watching them eat a pre-skate snack. Everything is recorded so when it comes time to make the behind-the-scenes show there’s plenty of footage to pull from.

Pepper’s already talked to him about doing a couple specials for  _ Avengers Assembled _ . It’s part of being the captain, part of connecting to their fan base, and Steve knows he should be more gracious about doing the bits but he’s not. 

There are parts of his life that he just wants to be for him, and his Captain persona is different than his Steve persona and sometimes it gets exhausting having to be the polite charming ‘aw shucks’ guy all the time. The real Steve Rogers has a bit of a Brooklyn drawl and curses like the dockhands he learned the words from. That guy has marks on his face from his pillows when he wakes up in the morning and walks into doorframes at least twice before he gets some coffee in him and gets awake.

Captain Steve is woken up, showered, made up, and caffeinated before they film him theatrically stretching and taking the time to actually smell his coffee. Real Steve scalds his tongue as he tries to chug it.

But Pepper’s dedicated to cleaning up the franchise’s image, and Steve’s not going to make her life difficult so he’s agreed to do whatever specials she wants. The first is going to be a focus on growing up in Brooklyn, how it shaped him and his career and what it means to be able to play professional hockey here.

It’s not the first time Steve’s done something like that, and he doubts it’ll be the last.

Steve helps Stark finish setting up, and then they both go down the catered buffet line and fill their plates up with food.

“Benefits to being here early,” Stark says. They sit down beneath an umbrellaed table and Stark pushes his sunglasses up. “No one to fight for for a place in line.”

It’s probably bad manners to eat before the other guests even begin to arrive, but Steve’s hungry so manners can go screw themselves. 

Sam’s the first to show up, and he’s got the gaggle of rookies with him.

“Go play frisbee or something,” Sam tells Peter. “Work up an appetite and then you can eat.”

“You’re just trying to snag the best food for yourself,” Bobby says and darts ahead of all of them to load his plate up with Jello that’s shaped like hockey sticks.

“They’re onto you,” Steve tells Sam when the man joins him and Stark at their table.

Sam sighs. “The rookies get smarter and smarter every year. It makes prank wars an actual challenge.”

“Of course you’re into pranking,” Steve says. “Hanging clothes in the rafters is Clint’s thing so don’t try that one. Logan’s the one who unscrews the tops of all the water bottles so don’t take that one either. And make sure you check all your water bottles before drinking.”

“Is this cheating?” Stark asks, waving his fork between them. “I feel like this takes all the fun out of it.”

“It’s called cultivating allies,” Steve says. “Sam’s going to be my d-partner. We need to start building trust between us.”

“Besides,” Sam says, “The fun of prank wars is catching the rookies off guard.”

Not entirely true. Steve does love a good rookie prank, but they’re so easy to prank because they’re clueless and often too tired to be paying attention and when they realize they’ve been pranked they’re usually too meek to do anything about it. Pranking a fellow vet - now that’s where the real fun is. That’s where you get real prank wars, the kinds that only end when a coach steps in and tells them to stop screwing around and get their heads on straight.

~*~

Steve’s leaning against the half wall that separates the patio from the back yard, nursing the single beer he’s allowed himself, when he notices a bit of commotion inside the house.

Stark’s on the phone and having a conversation with Ms. Potts at the same time, and he can’t tell if Stark is angry or worried or something else entirely. It all ends with Stark striding out of the kitchen and into a room Steve can no longer see into, and he wonders if he should go investigate. 

“This isn’t your first time at a Stark party,” one of the media guys - Carl - says, coming over with Eddie, one of the camera guys. “How is it different from the others?”

Steve abandons thoughts of investigating what’s going on with Stark, and plasters a smile on his face for the camera. “Well, this is the first time I’ve been to Mr. Stark’s house instead of his Tower or one of the ballrooms he rents out sometimes for events. Did you know that he has an ice rink in his basement? He wouldn’t let me see it. Told me this was supposed to be a break from hockey. I guess he hasn’t learned yet that there’s no such thing.”

Carl laughs. “Moderation is always difficult, especially at the beginning of the season. You already angling to play every preseason game?”

“Already been shot down,” Steve says with a rueful smile. “But whether I’m on the bench or in the press box or even on my couch at home, I’m going to be supporting my team. The preseason is about seeing where the pieces fit, about narrowing the roster down to our regular season roster. I’m excited to see what our team’s going to look like by the end of preseason. It’s always an adventure.”

Steve’s rambling a bit, but he knows that they’ll cut the lines they like and put them together into something usable. Talking too much is better than not talking enough.

“What’re you looking forward to the most about the season?” Carl asks.

Steve could answer this question in his sleep, and he’s got an answer on the tip of his tongue when he sees Stark rounding the corner of the mansion with two very familiar people.

“Oh my -” Steve cuts himself off, vaguely aware of the camera on him, and then he takes off running, because that’s  _ Bucky _ .

He gets to Bucky and wraps him up in a hug, lifting him off the ground, and Steve’s strong, but it shouldn’t be this easy. He puts Bucky back on his feet and starts nervously patting Bucky’s shoulders then his arms.

“You’ve lost weight,” Steve says.

“Hello to you to,” Bucky says, a shadow of his usual grin on his face. 

“You’re here,” Steve says, He wants to hug Bucky again. Wants to bring him somewhere and make sure he’s okay. 

But he can’t, because he’s at Tony Stark’s mansion, and his entire team is here, his  _ owner _ is here, and Steve tries to school his face into something normal and professional as he takes a step back from Bucky.

“Uh, I hope you had a good flight,” Steve says.

Bucky actually facepalms. 

Natasha just shakes her head. “I see you’re as awkward in English as you were in Russian,” she says, words thickly accented, and she sounds tired. 

“When did he talk in Russian?” Bucky asks. “I thought he spoke in English and gibberish.”

“As charming as this reunion is,” Stark says, “We should introduce you to the team.”

Right.

Steve backs up so the team has a clear view of Bucky and Natasha, but he tunes out whatever Stark has to say about their arrival. He’ll get the full story from Bucky later, and right now he’s too busy studying his best friend to make sure he’s okay.

There are dark circles under his eyes like he hasn’t been sleeping, and his clothes hang loose on his frame, and they’re wrinkled, but there’s a shadow of a smile on his face, one that turns into a real smile when he looks over at Steve.

Steve wants to reach out and hold Bucky’s hand, wants to tuck the loose hair behind his ear, wants to drag Bucky away and put him in the shower and make him dinner and then tuck him into bed. He wants -

Steve clasps his hands behind his back so he doesn’t do anything stupid.

When the introductions are done, Stark lowers his voice so he’s only talking to Bucky and Natasha. “I’ve got plenty of rooms at the mansion or I can put you up in a hotel until you find a place to stay.”

“Bucky can stay with me,” Steve says. He says it a little too quick, a little too loud, and now he’s got more attention on him than he wants. “I mean, just for tonight. Or until he gets settled.”

“Just for tonight?” Bucky asks. “After all I did for you in Russia?”

Steve scowls but doesn’t say anything, aware of all the cameras on them and all the teammates watching. Or, maybe more importantly, aware of Tony Stark looking more invested in this conversation than Steve’s comfortable with.

Once it’s just Steve, Bucky, and a disturbingly small number of bags in Steve’s apartment, Steve says, “You can stay as long as you want. Forever even.”

Bucky’s eyebrows try to climb into his hairline. “Forever? You go around making that kind of offer to anyone?”

Steve should probably take the opening to play this off, to make a joke, but he looks Bucky straight in the eye and says, “Only you.”

Bucky’s breath whooshes out of him. “Shit, Stevie,” he says. “You -” he cuts himself off and looks to the ceiling.

Steve and Bucky had lived together in Moscow, and they spent the whole season dancing around something they didn’t want to define, because Steve was only there temporarily, and Bucky didn’t seem to have plans to go anywhere.

But Steve’s gotten Bucky as his goalie, gotten him to the United States against all odds, and Steve’s willing to push his luck. If he can have everything then he certainly wants it.

“We don’t have to,” Steve says, because no matter how much he wants to see where he and Bucky can go, if Bucky doesn’t want that then Steve will back right off. “And the spare room is yours if you want it, but my room’s an option too.”

Bucky crosses the space between them in two long strides and wraps Steve up in a hug. Steve hugs back, struck again by how skinny Bucky is. He’s going to have to feed him up as much as possible before the season starts.

“Uh, is this a yes?” Steve asks.

“Yes, you idiot,” Bucky laughs.

“You can always change your mind,” Steve says, and he starts to pull back as common sense catches up to him. “I’m your captain. I -”

“You were my best friend before you were ever my captain,” Bucky says. “And if you being my captain is going to be an issue then I’ll find another team to play with.”

“No,” Steve says. “You’re an Avenger now.”

“Stupid name,” Bucky says. “Don’t you have a say in these things as the face of the franchise?”

“I used all my say to make sure we didn’t got to LA,” Steve says. 

“Bullshit. The Dodgers already did that and Stark isn’t a follower.”

“He isn’t,” Steve agrees. He drifts into the kitchen, pleased when Bucky follows. It probably doesn’t bode well that Steve’s not comfortable with them being too far apart. Maybe it’s one of those things that will fade once Steve’s mind realizes that Bucky is here and he isn’t going anywhere. 

“You hungry?” Steve asks, already pulling Tupperware out of the fridge

“You realize there was food at Stark’s, right?”

“You realize you’re not at your ideal weight, right?” Steve fires back.

“Make me whatever,” Bucky says. “Since you’re clearly not going to relax until I eat. If I fall asleep it’s the jet lag and not a slight to your culinary skills.”

Now that Bucky mentions it, he looks exhausted, like he’s going to fall asleep once he’s horizontal. Or maybe even before then.

“Only rookies fall asleep in their food,” Steve says, putting leftover spaghetti and meatballs into the microwave. “Don’t make me plaster embarrassing pictures all over your stall.”

‘You’re gonna do it anyways,” Bucky says. “I know you.”

It’s a good point so Steve doesn’t acknowledge it. “Glasses are to the left of the sink. Get yourself a drink. This isn’t a restaurant.”

Bucky flips him off, but it’s a tired, half-hearted gesture.

“Food then sleep,” Steve promises as the microwave beeps at him.

“You’re bossier than I remember.”

“It’s that C they gave me.”

“I’m surprised they don’t call you Captain Dad,” Bucky grumbles. He comes back to the table with two glasses of water and sets one down in front of Steve. “Hydration’s important.”

“Thanks,” Steve says, giving Bucky his dinner and then tracking down a fork for him.

Bucky eats, arms braced on the table, shoulders bent over his food. How many times did they eat together in Russia at the little table in Bucky’s apartment knees bumping against each other? How many times did Bucky try to make American food when Steve was feeling homesick or drag him to Bucky’s parents’ house to get hugs from Mrs. Barnes?

“I hope your parents aren’t too mad at me,” Steve says. “For stealing you away.”

“Ma’s thrilled,” Bucky says. “She says she’s lived with her in-laws long enough and now it’s Pa’s turn.”

“They’ve moving too?”

This is news to Steve.

Bucky shrugs and he can’t quite meet Steve’s eyes. “Yeah. I’ll tell you more about it tomorrow.”

“Okay.”

Bucky manages to finish all his spaghetti, but he’s drooping by the end of it. Steve gets Bucky a spare toothbrush and some of Steve’s clothes to sleep in. THey can worry about unpacking Bucky’s things in the morning.

“You coming to practice tomorrow?” Steve asks as they get into bed.

Bucky nods and covers a yawn with his hand. “Yep. Have to get new equipment. I’ve already thought up some mask designs. You still into art?”

“You want me to do your mask?” Steve asks. “Don’t you want a professional?”

“I want you,” Bucky says, voice sleepy but no less honest for it.

“Want to have a piece of me with you on the ice?” Steve asks. He means to sound teasing but ends up sounding pleased instead.

“Sap,” Bucky says, fond. Then, “Go the fuck to sleep.”

Steve laughs and shuts off his bedside lamp.

~*~

If Steve was a better person, he would coax Bucky awake in the morning, but Bucky is frighteningly grumpy in the mornings so Steve just puts Bucky’s phone out of reach so he’ll have to wake up to turn the alarm off and goes to take a shower.

After his shower, he makes coffee, and he’s not sure whether it’s the coffee or the alarm that finally drives Bucky from his bed, but the goalie stumbles into the kitchen, hair all over the place, eyes mostly closed, and Steve takes pity on him and presses a cup of coffee into his hands.

Bucky grunts something that might be a thanks before he downs the whole mug in three big gulps. Steve goes over to the freezer to pull out the second mug of coffee he’d set aside. 

When Steve first started living with Bucky in Moscow, he didn’t understand why the coffee was set to brew so much earlier than Bucky got up, but he quickly learned it was because Bucky has no ability to tell temperature first thing in the morning. He just goes straight to the coffee and drinks it, and the only way to make sure he doesn’t burn his tongue or his throat is to make sure the coffee is cool by the time he drinks it.

Steve switches coffee mugs, his full one for Bucky’s empty one and then goes to check on his omelet. 

By the time Steve’s got breakfast laid out - toast and half an omelet with cheese, turkey sausage, and peppers - Bucky’s functional enough to use a fork.

“You with me yet?” Steve teases.

“Jet lag is a bitch,” Bucky says.

“Oh, so you won’t be like this next week?” Steve asks.

“Do I make fun of you for being an old man who can’t handle late nights?” Bucky asks.

“Yes,” Steve says.

Bucky shrugs, conceding the point. They might not seem like well-matched roommates, because Steve is early to bed early to rise while Bucky likes to stay up late and sleep in late, but they’ve found a way to make it work. They got a TV in the bedroom so Bucky could stay up watching his shows while Steve fell asleep on him, and Steve knows how to make Bucky’s coffee so he won’t scald his mouth. 

It’s a good system and not just because it means Steve gets to end every day with cuddles. 

“I bet Natasha’s fine,” Steve says.

“That’s because Natasha is a goddess among men,” Bucky says. “I’m going to be fucking useless at practice today.”

“No you’re not. You’ll feel better after a shower and as soon as we get into the locker room you’ll wake right up. You always do.”

“Yeah,” Bucky says. He shovels some more of his omelet into his mouth. “I need to get to the rink early. Have to do a bunch of fittings.”

“That have something to do with you not bringing any gear with you?” Steve asks.

Bucky nods. “We, uh, we didn’t exactly have anyone’s blessing to leave so I had to leave a bunch of shit behind. Turns out lugging around goalie equipment isn’t exactly subtle.”

“Mm,” Steve says. “This also connected to why your parents are moving?”

“I know what you’re doing,” Bucky says, pointing his fork at Steve. “Asking me questions when I’m too tired to lie. But yes. When confiscating my passport and threatening  _ me  _ didn’t work, Lukin moved on to threatening my parents. Made it very clear that if I left then Pa wouldn’t have a job anymore. Joke’s on Lukin, though, because my parents aren’t too torn up about leaving.”

“Your grandparents going to be okay?” Steve asks.

Bucky laughs. “Nothing’ll get to them. Actually, I kind of hope Lukin tries something. Babushka will kick his ass all the way back to Kronas.”

“And Natasha’s okay?” Steve asks.

“She says she is,” Bucky says. “There were some threats to pulls her from Team Russia, but they’ll tank without her so I don’t think anyone will follow through on that. Quit frowning. We both chose to come here and play. We could’ve said no, and we could’ve stayed when Lukin started kicking up a fuss, but we didn’t. None of this is your fault.”

Steve hates that Bucky can read him so well, and he hates himself a little bit for making Bucky comfort him when it’s Bucky who’s having a rough time.

“Well, we’ll get you squared away with equipment today,” Steve says. “I don’t know if you know this, but our owner’s kind of a big deal in the hockey equipment world.”

“Is now a bad time to say I like Reebok better than Stark?” Bucky asks.

“Yes but only because I want to see Stark’s face when you tell him that,” Steve says.

~*~

They pick Natasha up outside her hotel on the way to practice.

“How do you want to handle the locker room?” Steve asks in lieu of a hello or how did you sleep, because Natasha doesn’t have the patience for small talk. “I can talk to them before you get there, while you’re there, you can handle everything. Just tell me how I can help you.”

Steve catches the quirk of Natasha’s lips through the rear view mirror. “Thanks,” she says. “Just stand near me and look authoritative, and I’ll do the rest.”

Playing for Dynamo had been the first time Steve played on a team with a woman, but that had been Natasha’s team, and she’d already gotten the players to fall in line. Now she’s going to be joining a team where no one but Steve and Bucky have played with a woman before, and Steve’s been in enough locker rooms to know that there are going to be some problems in the beginning. 

He’s hoping they’ve done a good enough job selecting their team that there won’t be any real problems, but there is going to be a sharp rise of foot-in-mouth syndrome for the first couple days.

They’re the first to the locker room, and Bucky and Natasha go to find the equipment manager, and Steve takes a moment to look around the empty room. The walls are all lined with their stalls, and Steve traces over the ‘Rogers 4’ that’s above his stall then crosses the room (careful to skirt their logo) to where ‘Barnes 12’ is pinned up now.

Steve picked his number, because back in the day a 4F meant you weren’t eligible to fight in World War II, and Steve spent most of his childhood being too sickly and scrawny to play street hockey with his neighbors let alone fight in a war. Picking the number four was a reference to what he’d come from, to how much work he put into becoming the player he is. 

Bucky picked 12 because he’s ‘three times the player Steve is’. 

Bucky’s an asshole.

Natasha’s stall is tucked between Clint’s and Sam’s, and Steve can’t help but smile when he sees the ‘Romanova 8’ above her stall. She’s been furious last year when the lockout meant having to give her number up to Ovechkin, but she’s got it back now.

Steve doesn’t know how long he spends going stall to stall, reassuring himself that they’ve got hockey back, already thinking up line combinations and d-pairings, but it’s long enough that the other guys start to trickle in.

“Uh,” Sam says. “You need some alone time?”

Steve stops looking at all the practice jerseys that are hanging up and shakes his head. “I’m good. Just happy that we’ve got a season.”

“Says the one who spent the lockout playing,” Sam tells him. “Some of us had to do the boring meetings and stuff that got us hockey back.”

“Sucker,” Clint says, shouldering past Sam to get to his stall. 

Clint went to Biel to play during the lockout, and Steve’s a little concerned about what habits he’s picked up from spending a year with Tyler Seguin. 

“Someone had to get us a good CBA,” Sam says. “You can thank me when you get a hotel room to yourself on the road.”

“Girls and hotel rooms,” Logan says. “That’s what you spent a year doing?”

“Women,” Steve corrects, mild. He smiles serenely when Logan turns his glower on him. “We have a woman on our team now.”

Logan scowls and starts slamming his equipment around in his stall. Steve would be worried, but this is typical Logan behavior.

They’re all mostly dressed when Natasha and Bucky come into the locker room, and everything grinds to a halt. Conversations peter out, and everyone just stares, mostly at Natasha.

She responds by pulling her shirt over her head on her way to her stall. “Stare and you break the no looking in the locker room rule,” she says. “ _ Leer _ and I’ll make sure you can’t see for a week.”

Everyone quickly looks down at the floor, and Steve laughs as he finishes getting his gear on.


	4. Chapter 4

**Avengers Assembled 1 : Brooklyn Boys**

_ “He can stay with me,” Steve says, “I mean, just for tonight.” _

_ “Just for the night?” Bucky asks. “After all I did for you in Russia?” _

Steve, who’s watching the first episode of their show with Bucky and a couple people in PR, groans. “Did you have to cut it like that? It makes it seem like I don’t want him here.”

“Don’t worry,” Jemma Simmons, their producer, says. “No one will think that by the end.”

Unsurprisingly, Steve isn’t comforted by this.

The show immediately cuts to Steve’s apartment, and  _ that _ had been a fun afternoon, Steve and Bucky being told at practice that a camera crew was coming over to get some footage, and they had to rush home and make it look like both bedrooms were being lived in.

Steve can’t help but tense up as the camera pans around the apartment, afraid that something’s going to be out of place or there’s going to be a Barnes shirsey in Steve’s hamper or one of Steve’s books next to Bucky’s bed.

_ “Welcome to the bachelor pad,” Bucky says, sweeping an arm out. “If you’d given us more warning we would’ve cleaned up better.” _

_ “The dirty dishes are Bucky’s fault,” Steve says. “He was late getting up so we had to rush to practice.” _

_ The camera zooms in on the frying pan and two plates in the sink. _

_ “ _ You  _ could’ve done them,” Bucky points out. _

_ “Now I’ve gotta cook  _ and  _ do the clean-up?” Steve asks.  _

_ “Steve Rogers and James Barnes were best friends growing up in Brooklyn,” the voiceover says as Steve and Bucky begin playfully pushing at each other, still fighting over whose fault the dishes are. “Hockey brought them together and it forced them apart but now it’s bringing them back together again, they hope, for the final time.” _

_ Present day Steve and Bucky fade out to be replaced with grainy video from their midget days, when Bucky could barely do a split in the goal and Steve fell over his skates more often than he actually managed to skate.  _

_ “Steve and James grew up playing hockey at the local ice rink or, more often than not, playing street hockey with anything they could find; a story that most hockey players can relate to.” _

_ “I learned how to play in the alley next to our apartment building,” Present day Steve says, sitting in an interview chair. “Uh, depending on the day depended on how much I felt like shot blocking.” He laughs. “When we used a crumbled can or even a tennis ball I didn’t mind so much. One day we played with a lacrosse ball and, let me tell you, those things  _ hurt.  _ Bucky at least had padding, because he was the goalie.” _

_ “What was it like being drafted to the Islanders?” Pepper asks. _

_ Steve smiles and he looks out beyond her, like he’s seeing it happen again in his head. “It was amazing. To be able to play in the same city you grew up in - that’s something special. I’m grateful the Islanders saw something in me, and I hope they never regretted picking me, because I’ve never once wanted to play somewhere else.” _

_ “And now that there’s been some changes?” Pepper asks. _

_ “The stuff that matters has stayed the same,” Steve answers. “We’re still playing hockey, we’ve still got a good team, and, of course, we’re still playing in Brooklyn. The move to the Barclays Arena is something awfully special. I’ve always been proud of being a Brooklyn boy, and I hope we can make all of Brooklyn proud of us.” _

_ “Not all of Steve Roger’s experiences in Brooklyn have been good ones,” the voiceover says, “but don’t try telling him that.” _

_ The footage shifts to Steve and Bucky driving through the city, and Bucky’s the first to point out the window and say, “Hey, we used to catch movies there when we had the time.” _

_ “Movie theaters are second best to ice rinks in the summer,” Steve says. “Always nice and cool.” _

_ Bucky rolls his eyes. “He says that as if the popcorn wasn’t his favorite part.” _

_ Steve rolls his eyes right back, but then he points to the alley next to the theater. “That’s where I got in my first fight. We were playing a bit of street hockey before a movie started, and some guy was going too rough on Bucky. No one had pads or anything, and Bucky didn’t even have a mask and the guy was head hunting.” _

_ “He was a  _ kid _ ,” Bucky says, “And he wasn’t head hunting. He just wasn’t very good at hockey.” _

_ Steve tries not to laugh, but the corners of his lips twitch up. “Anyways, I took exception and ended up watching the movie with some ice from the concession stand on my hand.” _

_ “He got better at fighting,” Bucky says, “Mostly because after that he never stopped.” _

_ “Gotta protect my goalie,” Steve says. _

_ Bucky looks stern until Steve goes back to looking at the road and then his expression softens into something fond. _

_ “Ooh, got in a fight there too,” Steve says and the episode becomes a montage of Steve pointing out places where his younger self fought interspersed with his surprisingly few NHL fights. _

_ “That’s the gym where I met Dr. Erskine,” Steve says once the fighting montage is done. He turns to Bucky. “You never got to meet him. He helped me get into shape after you’d moved to Russia.” _

_ “He bulked you up,” Bucky says. “I almost didn’t recognize you when I picked you up from the airport. You weren’t so scrawny anymore.” _

_ “It’s funny,” Steve says, “I fought all the time as a kid when I was small enough that I lost every single one of them, but once I got big and even got some fighting training I stopped fighting.” _

_ “Good thing you stopped,” Bucky says, “I’m the one that had to haul your -” he glances at the camera - “butt out of trouble all the time. You probably would’ve taken on a whole team by yourself if I wasn’t there to stop you.” _

_ “One time we took on a whole team just the two of us,” Steve confesses to the camera. “Boy was Mrs. Barnes unhappy with us after that one.” _

_ The tour of Brooklyn continues only with less stories about getting into trouble and more fond memories of an ice cream place or favorite diner.  _

_ “I always knew he was going to get big one day,” Bucky says. “Even when he was pint-sized he could put away more food than you could ever believe. I have no idea where he put it all.” _

_ “Steve Rogers and James Barnes have grown up since their early days in Brooklyn,” the voiceover says, and it shows pictures of them on midget, drowning in their jerseys and those pictures morph into their official Avengers pictures. “But now they’re back in Brooklyn, ready to tackle the upcoming season together. Brooklyn’s ready for them but is the rest of the NHL?” _

_ The episode ends with Bucky and Steve in their jerseys, standing back-to-back with their arms crossed over their chests. _

Steve’s stunned into silence as the episode ends, because he has no idea what the production team was thinking. That looks like a trailer to a rom-com not an introduction to the Brooklyn Avengers.

Ms. Simmons just beams and tells them everyone’s going to love it, and Steve doesn’t have the heart to say anything. Pepper has to approve everything, and if it’s got her approval then it can’t be as bad as Steve thinks it is. Maybe he’s just reading too much into it, because he knows the truth. 

~*~

It’s not just Steve.

The first practice after the episode airs, Steve and Bucky get to the locker room, and Clint dumps a handful of confetti on their heads.

“Congratulations,” Sam says, smirking. “Let us know when you’re planning on adopting, and I’ll get you a Wilson onesie.”

“A W. Wilson onesie,” Wade says, “because that’s obviously better than S. Wilson.”

Steve looks over at Bucky, and Bucky just shrugs, because this is what it’s like to be in a locker room. You get razzed about everything, and as long as it’s just teasing and there’s nothing mean-spirited going on then Steve can just let it roll off his back.

“Really?” Steve asks, holding up the practice jersey in his stall. Someone’s swapped it with Bucky’s and they’ve taped an S on so it reads S. Barnes on the back.

“Huh,” Bucky says, holding up his J. Rogers jersey. And then he puts it on, because the best way to ruin a prank is to roll with it.

“Sweet,” Steve says, pulling the Barnes jersey over his head. “Now I don’t have to answer any media questions.” He adopts his best fake Russian accent and says, “English? I forgot. Ask Steve questions instead.”

“That’s not what I sound like,” Bucky says, throwing a balled up sock at Steve’s head.

“You do squirrel out of all your interviews,” Natasha points out. “Even I give interviews, and I’m the one who was born in Russia.”

“I don’t like people,” Bucky says.

“You like Steve,” Clint says, grinning. 

There aren’t any Mrs. jokes or wife jokes, but Steve gets called S. Barnes all practice long which is marginally better than being called Cap but not by much. It doesn’t help that Steve gets a stupid grin on his face every time he sees Rogers across the back of Bucky’s jersey or that he blushes every time he forgets and actually answers to S. Barnes.

“I thought you two were ridiculous last season,” Natasha says during a water break. “I didn’t realize that was you being  _ subtle _ .”

“We’re great at subtle,” Steve says.

“You expect me to believe that James makes his bed every morning?” Natasha asks. 

“Uh,” Steve says.

Natasha just laughs and skates over to tug on Clint’s jersey. “Come on, let’s work on passing. I’m not going to score any goals this season if you can’t get the puck on my tape.”

“I’m a hella good passer,” Clint says even as he lets Natasha pull him along on the ice. “Accuracy is my thing.”

“Then prove it,” Natasha says.

~*~

Richards plays in the first preseason game, probably to reassure him that Bucky isn’t going to replace him, and Steve thinks he should probably have a chat with Richards about that. He came into the season thinking he was going to be the starting goaltender, and, unlike Steve, he didn’t know that Stark was trying to get a number one goaltender.

Unless Bucky really struggles, he’s going be the starter. Richards isn’t a bad goaltender, he just isn’t up to the full workload yet, and, well, Bucky’s better. It’s not a conversation Steve’s looking forward to having.

Steve’s in for the first game, Sam too, and it’s their first time getting to play together in an actual game.

They’re not bad together, but they haven’t figured out each other’s habits yet, and it’s obvious. Steve’s never been had a d-partner long enough to be able to predict where they were going to be, and a couple practices isn’t enough to get him and Sam there, but he thinks they might be able to get on the same wavelength if Coulson gives them the chance.

Five minutes into the first period, Sam fishes the puck out of the corner and passes it behind their net to Steve, and he looks up to see that Natasha’s already taken off, anticipating what Steve and Sam were going to do. Steve grins and sends the puck down the ice, and Natasha catches it just before it would be offside and carries it into the offensive zone.

Clint’s a half step behind her, and she slings it over to him, and he fires it past the goalie and into the net.

“That’s how you pass,” Natasha says as Clint wraps her up in a hug. 

Steve crashes into them, knocking them into the boards, and he pats both their helmets and then opens the hug up to Sam and Bobby. 

~*~

Two and a half weeks later, Steve scores the first goal of the regular season. 

They’re at home against the Rangers in what everyone’s been marketing as the Battle of New York (conveniently forgetting about Buffalo). 

Thor’s the one who draws the penalty - a stick gets between his skates and he falls to the ice so hard Steve swears the rink vibrates. He pops up to his feet snarling, but he doesn’t get goaded into taking a penalty, and Steve goes over the boards with Natasha, Clint, and Sam. Thor stays on the ice, part of the first power play unit, and he’s the one who wins the faceoff clean back to Steve, and Steve puts the puck on net with a rocket of a shot from the blue line.

There’s a moment of calm, of absolute silence before the goal light flashes and the crowd  _ erupts _ . 

Steve’s barely gotten his hands up in the air for his celebration before he’s being crashed into by teammates left and right, getting hugs and helmet pats and butt pats. 

“Fucking right,” Clint says.

“Way to start us off, Cap,” Sam tells him.

“Way to take a penalty for the team,” Steve tells Thor. “And good faceoff win.”

Natasha rolls her eyes and gives Steve a shove towards the bench to start the fist bump line. Steve looks around the stadium as he skates the bench, grins at the fans on their feet, at the fans waving their arms over their heads and shouting. There’s a mix of jerseys here - Islanders and Avengers and the rare Rangers fan - and Steve waves at as many people as he can before he goes for round two of his teammates congratulating him on the goal. 

“It’s just the first one,” Steve says once he’s on the bench and the fourth line is going out. “There are a lot more to come.”

“A lot more tonight,” Logan says. “Can’t let you hog all the fame.”

Steve laughs and looks down the ice to where Bucky is standing guard in goal. He tips his mask in acknowledgement and then hunches down, because the ref’s about to drop the puck at center ice.

~*~

Steve gets on the board again, an assist on Sam’s empty netter at the end of the game, and the Avengers are all smiles as they skate over to Bucky to congratulate him on the shutout.

Steve waits his turn, watches as Peter taps Bucky’s helmet, as Bobby does the same, as Sam gives Bucky a friendly face wash. Steve can’t help his laugh, and Bucky glares at him, obvious even through the mask. 

When it’s Steve’s turn, his presses his helmet to Bucky’s. “Good fucking job,” Steve says. “Hell of a way to start the season.”

“You too,” Bucky says. “Goal and an assist? I thought you were a d-man.”

Steve laughs and slings an arm around Bucky’s shoulder and they skate over to the bench and waddle down the tunnel to the locker room. Steve has long since given up on trying to make walking in skates look anything but incredibly stupid. 

The locker room is all smiles, guys laughing with each other as they strip down to their under armour. Even Natasha, who’s usually as serious off the ice as she is on it, has a smile for Clint as they get changed. 

Steve doesn’t have time to shower today before the media pours in, but someone tosses him a towel to wipe the sweat off his face with. He runs it through his hair too and then drops it in his lap, because his compression shorts don’t leave a whole lot to the imagination. 

“First goal in the new building,” Everhart says, pushing her way to the front of the scrum. “First goal as an Avenger. How does that feel?”

“It feels great,” Steve says. “Obviously every hockey player wants to make their fans proud, and we just wanted to get out there and give them something to cheer for tonight. The goal was definitely something that got them on their feet, but so was T’Challa’s diving pass on the PK that knocked the puck out of the zone and probably saved a goal. And when Natasha took Staal to the boards - that was definitely something that got them fired up.”

Steve grins just thinking about it. Natasha, slight but oh so fast, putting all that speed into knocking Marc Staal into the boards after she took exception to the way he was slashing Clint’s wrists. 

“Battle of the Gingers!” Clint calls from his stall and a couple of the reporters turn his way.

Steve laughs. “Guess that’s one thing you can call it.”

“You aren’t concerned about Romanova getting involved in more physical play?” Carlos Madden asks.

Steve remembers him from the big media conference. He’s one of the reporters who doesn’t believe women should be playing hockey.

“Hockey’s a physical sport,” Steve answers. What he doesn’t say, because it’ll be taken out of context and run as a headline is that he trusts Natasha to engage in the level of physical play she’s comfortable with and, if other players take that as an excuse to get too rough, he trusts the rest of the team to deal with it. It’s the same way he treats Clint; though, Clint tends to avoid hits - both delivering them and receiving them. 

“What was scoring your first goal like?” he’s asked, a variation of his first question, but this is what media scrums are like - answering slightly different questions with slightly different answers.

“It felt like a beginning,” Steve says. “It felt even better when we were able to get Bucky the shutout. First NHL game, first game as an Avenger, first game in this arena, and he didn’t let a single puck through.” 

“Don’t let him deflect,” Bucky says, wandering over from his stall to crash Steve’s media scrum. “He did exactly what you want your captain to do. He went out in the first game and set the example for everyone else to follow for the rest of the season. He was hard on pucks, he defended in his own zone, and he even managed to net himself a goal.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “A team isn’t about one person, and the reason I can jump into the offense is because I know we’ve got a solid goalie behind us, know we’ve got someone who can bail us out if I get out of position.”

The cameras swing between the two of them, and the reporters appear equally torn on who to direct their attention to. 

“This was a good game,” Steve says, “but this is just the beginning. We’re going to have to keep improving if we want to make our mark on this season.”

~*~

After the press clears out, Coulson comes in to congratulate them on their first win. 

“Thank you for making me look good,” Coulson says, and there’s some muffled laughter. “But on a more serious note, that was a good game. It showed us some of our strengths, it showed us some things that can be strengths if we work at them, and it definitely showed some of our weaknesses. Go out tonight, celebrate the win, but come to practice tomorrow ready to work.”

He tosses a puck to Steve who catches it on reflex.

“First goal in the new building,” Coulson says. “I had to steal it from someone who wants to put it in a display case. It belongs with you.”

“Thanks,” Steve says.

Coulson tosses another puck to Natasha. “First point scored by a woman in the NHL.”

“It was Sam’s goal,” she says.

Sam waves off her attempt to give him the game puck. “That one’s yours. You deserve it for the pass you gave me. LIfted the puck right over Stepan’s stick, and I was home free.”

Natasha nods and tucks the puck into her gear bag. 

“Remember tonight,” Coulson tells them. “Remember what it feels like to have the crowd on their feet for you. Remember the excitement of coming out to play after a long season off. Remember the roar of the fans and the exhilaration of the first win. Hold onto all those memories, because we’re going to need to tap into them throughout the season.”

Steve nods along, because he knows better than to get caught up in a single good game, especially this early in the season. There are 81 more left to play in the regular season, and there are going to be struggles along the way. There are going to be losing streaks and brutal losses, but wins like this will help remind them that they’re a good team.

Coulson finishes his speech, and Steve’s one of the first to hit the showers.

~*~

“The  _ NHL _ ,” Peter says, the same thing he’s been saying for the past ten minutes.

The team all headed to a club after the game, because it’s easier to get the rookies in, and because there are definitely some people who are going to need to dance to work out some of the post-game adrenaline. 

“I know,” Bobby says back, his eyes just as wide.

“Ah, to be that young again,” Wade sighs.

“Fuck no,” Logan says. “You couldn’t pay me to be a rookie again.”

Steve’s wedged into the booth between Bucky and Sam, having already dispensed his captainly duty of buying the first round of beer. His plan is to stay in the booth and just unwind for the next two hours or so.

“The shine will wear off soon enough,” Loki says. 

“I don’t think the shine ever wears off,” Steve says. “Hockey just keeps getting better and better.”

“Really?” Peter asks, like he can’t believe there are better things in store for him than tonight.

“My philosophy,” Clint says, taking a quick sip from the outrageously pink drink in his hand, “is that you should always celly like you’re a rookie, and bounce back from mistakes like a vet. That’s how you become the ultimate hockey player.”

“You’re not drunk enough to be getting philosophical,” Steve tells him. 

“And I’m not drunk enough to listen to you,” Logan adds and the table breaks out into laughter.

“Fuck you,” Clint says. “I give great advice.”

Natasha edges away from him, eyeing the umbrella in his drink like it’s personally offended her. 

“I listened to Clint once,” T’Challa says. “And then I came to my senses, and my game hasn’t been better since.”

Clint makes an outraged face that sets everyone else off laughing again. 

“Me and my pink drink are going to find someone who appreciates me,” Clint huffs and he climbs over a couple teammates to get out of the booth, but Wade’s the one to grab him around the waist and keep him from escaping.

“Aw,” Wade says, “ _ I  _ appreciate you,” and then he nuzzles Clint’s cheek and laughs as Clint squawks and flails around.

“Oh boy,” Steve mutters, mostly to himself.

There are nights where the team’s high on adrenaline and a win, and they don’t even need alcohol to get loose and silly. It looks like this is going to be one of those nights. 

“Don’t be boring,” Bucky says, leaning in to be heard over the noise of the club and their table. “Let the kids have their fun.”

“The  _ kids _ ,” Steve says with a pointed look at the rookies who are still trying to process that they just played in their first NHL game, “are not the ones I’m worried about.”

As if to prove his point, Wade smacks a loud kiss on Clint’s cheek. “That’s for your skating speed.” A kiss on the other cheek. “That’s for your board play. If you want, we can talk about wax play sometime.”

Steve looks over at Bucky, eyebrows raised as Wade starts talking about getting good wood, and Bucky cracks a smile. 

“You’re the captain,” Bucky says, “They’re your responsibility.”

“Coulson better hurry up and name the second A, because Logan and I can’t handle them on our own,” Steve says. “And you’ve clearly decided to be useless.”

“I’m sorry,” Bucky says, thickening his accent. “I don’t understand.”

“Fuck you,” Steve says but he’s laughing.

Later, after the third round has come and gone, Clint and Wade drag the rookies onto the dance floor, and Steve watches, amused, as his teammates make fools out of themselves. 

“No shame,” Sam comments, watching as Clint does the chicken dance to a Lady Gaga song.

“It works for him,” Steve says. “He’ll have at least two women trying to pick him up by the end of the night.”

“No,” Sam says.

Steve grins. “Wanna bet?”

“Not with you,” Sam says. “I’m not that stupid. You’ve got the inside scoop on everything.”

“Maybe you should go dance with him,” Steve says, “Since you’re being a chicken.”

Sam scowls and pulls a twenty out of his wallet. “Fine. He goes home with a blonde.”

Steve pulls out a twenty of his own. “He goes home with  _ two _ .”

Sam narrows his eyes, but it’s Steve who’s smirking when, at the end of the night, Clint leaves with a blonde on either arm


	5. Chapter 5

They lose their second game, away at Buffalo, and Steve’s been in the business long enough to know what winning the first game of the season doesn’t mean they’re going to win every one after that, but you wouldn’t know that from talking to the media.

“Vastly different atmosphere than after the last game,” Carlos Madden says. 

Steve looks around the locker room. The team isn’t all smiles and barely restrained enthusiasm, but no one’s hanging their heads. 

“Every game is a learning experience,” Steve says neutrally. 

“What’d you learn from this one?” Skye asks.

“We need to be sharper on our zone entries,” Steve says. “We let them clog up the neutral zone, and we could never really set up in the offensive zone.”

“Sam Wilson had a turnover that led to a goal,” Everhart says. “What’s your response to that?”

Steve shrugs. “Mistakes happen. I had at least two turnovers, but Buck was able to bail me out on those so they’re not going to get much attention. Sam’s happened to lead to a goal. We’re not going to linger on it or pass blame around. Every player on this team has something to work on.”

“What was it like watching Peter score his first NHL goal?” Skye asks.

Steve’s face lights up. “Watching rookies score their first goal is always special. We made sure to snag the puck for him, because that’s something you never forget.”

“Did it bring you back to your first goal?”

Steve laughs. “Mine wasn’t nearly as pretty. I accidentally got near the net mouth and figured since I was there I might as well jam at Brodeur’s pads and see if I could make something happen. I, uh, my coach was not pleased that his rookie d-man was so far out of position.”

Coach had yelled at him for a solid ten minutes before the media came in and another fifteen after they left. But then the older guys took him out for a couple drinks he definitely wasn’t legal to have and told him to enjoy the first goal but that they’d kick his ass if he ever got that far out of position again.

“I’m excited for Peter,” Steve says, getting the interview back on track, “and I hope we’ll have plenty more goals to celebrate with him as the season goes on.”

~*~

When they get to their rink for the first practice after Buffalo, Peter’s practice jersey is hanging from the rafters.

“Congrats,” Steve says, clapping Peter on the back. “First prank is a bigger deal than your first goal.”

Steve knows who strung Peter’s jersey up there, and he carefully doesn’t look at Clint even though anyone who’s been on their team for a month knows that Clint likes to climb into high places and what he likes even better than that is leaving other people’s stuff in those high places.

Steve doesn’t expect Peter to sigh, then square his shoulders and start climbing the protective netting to retrieve his jersey.

“What are you doing?” Steve demands, because the netting is to protect the fans from getting hit with a puck, it’s not made for  _ climbing _ . “We have extra practice jerseys!”

“How do you think I get up there?” Clint asks, appearing at Steve’s side.

“If he falls and hurts himself you better hope you can run faster than you can skate,” Steve says.

“Kid’s not a bad climber,” Clint observes as Peter manages to reach his jersey. “Looks kind of like a spider in a net.”

“Natasha’s already got the spider name,” Steve says, “and the spider number.”

“Black Widow is pretty cool,” Clint agrees, “and rookies shouldn’t get cool names. I’m going with Spiderman. You think I can retape all his extra jerseys before he gets down?”

Steve watches as Peter descends from the ceiling, even faster than he climbed up. “Nah. Besides, you want to space your pranks out. Don’t want Bobby feeling left out.”

“Oh man,” Clint says. “You’re right. We gotta hit Bobby next. Don’t want to be playing favorites.”

“We?” Steve asks, mild, casual, wondering who he should be looking out for.

Clint just laughs. “Nice try, Cap.” 

He abandons Steve to saunter over to Peter, and he slings an arm around the kid’s shoulders like he hadn’t been the cause of Peter’s little adventure. “So, Spiderman, ready to be trained in the ways of the spider?”

“What?” Peter asks. He looks at Steve for help, but Steve has no idea what’s going on either.

“Nat’s the spider queen,” Clint explains, “so I’ll leave you to her tutelage.”

“Spiders eat their young,” Peter says.

“You’re not actually a spider,” Clint tells him. He frowns and taps Peter’s head. “You don’t think you’re actually a spider, do you? Because then you’ve got problems I cannot help you with.”

“Of course I’m not actually a spider,” Peter says, and Steve laughs as the two of them disappear down the tunnel towards the locker room. 

~*~

They win in Toronto and then pull of an OT win in Ottawa, and Steve can begin to see the outline of what their team’s going to look like. 

And then they go to Boston.

The game starts with Blonsky going after Bruce, knocking his helmet off then cross checking him to the ice, and Natasha skates over, yelling in Russian that Steve picks up about half of. The swearing half. From her tone and the look on her face he can guess that the rest of it isn’t any friendlier.

Blonsky says something back and Natasha gets her stick up and  _ now  _ the linesmen decide to pay attention, and it’s Natasha who’s escorted to the penalty box; two minutes for roughing. 

“Fucking Bruins,” Logan mutters.

Steve couldn’t agree more. They’re a physical, heavy hitting team, and that’s not the way the Avengers want to play. 

“No retaliation,” Steve says, because if they get dragged into the Bruins’ game then they’re going to spend the whole 60 minutes in the penalty box which is exactly what the Bruins want. Then, because he knows how nasty these games can get he adds, “You know where the line is. They cross it and do what you have to do. But don’t let them pester you into bad decisions.”

The Bruins score on the power play, and Natasha’s mouth is set in a tight line as she skates to the bench to the jeering of the Boston fans.

“We’ll bounce back,” Steve says. 

Except they don’t.

Thirty seconds later the Bruins score again after Thor leaves his coverage to lay out Marchand, and Bergeron has a clear lane to the goal. 

Thor and Loki come back to the bench squabbling, and Peter sits as far away from them as he can while still being close enough that he’s ready for their line change when it comes up next.

“We’re fine,” Steve tells Peter. “Stick to the game plan.”

Peter glances over at Thor and Loki who’ve switched from English to what Steve assumes is Norwegian. It sounds angry and counterproductive to what the team needs, but Steve’s sent over the boards before he can say anything. 

“One big happy family,” Sam mutters as they take their positions outside the faceoff dot.

Steve cracks a small smile, lets the humor drain some of his tension. They’re a good team. All they have to do is focus on their game and good things will happen.

Thor and Loki continue to fight throughout the first period and even the intermission, and Steve can see Coulson’s mind working, wondering if he should switch the lines up. Steve wishes he had something to contribute, but the team’s too new, he doesn’t know everyone inside and out yet. 

By the second intermission they’re down 0-3, and Thor and Loki aren’t speaking to each other.

Steve doesn’t realize  _ that’s _ the sign that things are bad until their first shift in the third period.

Thor’s taken Bergeron to the boards and they’re battling for the puck. Loki comes in for support and when the puck gets knocked loose, he passes it up the the ice to Peter. And then on his follow-through he ‘just happens’ to catch Thor in the face.

The linesman nearest to them raises his whistle as Thor drops to the ice before he realizes that teammate-on-teammate doesn’t end in a penalty.

Play continues, and Bergeon has a beauty of a back check and steals the puck from Peter, and then he’s on a breakaway and he lifts the puck past Bucky.

0-4.

Thor skates to the bench, a bit of blood dripping down his nose,  _ thunderous _ . Steve quickly shifts so he’s sitting next to him, and Sam makes sure Loki’s on the far end of the bench.

“New lines,” Coulson says like two of his players didn’t just turn on each other. “Thor, I want you centering Natasha and Clint. Bruce, you’re centering Loki and Peter.”

Steve puts the incident out of his head. It’ll have to be addressed but not mid-game. Right now they’ve got a four goal deficit to overcome.

They don’t overcome it.

The game ends 0-4, and part of Steve wishes he could hide from the media in the showers. 

As it is, there’s already a large crowd gathered around his stall when he gets to the locker room, and Madden looks positively delighted. Steve’s never understood reporters who cover a team they’re determined to hate. 

He can understand a Toronto blog that trashes Boston or a Flyers reporter who has weekly ‘10 Reasons to Hate the Pittsburgh Penguins’ articles, but to hate your home team? Steve doesn’t get that.

“Alright,” Steve says, bending over to start unlacing his skates. “Who wants first question?”

~*~

After the media clears out, there’s a collective exhale, and Steve’s not the only one with slumping shoulders. He’s a professional athlete so he’ll never like losing, but this was an especially bad way to lose. At least when you get outplayed there are positives to draw from your side. When you turn on yourselves…

Steve lifts his head when Coulson strides into the room, tie still snug against his throat, suit still looking fresh pressed as if Coach wasn’t just facing a media horde of his own. Steve can only imagine the questions being lobbed at him.  _ Is this a sign that you don’t have control of your team? Would you expect one of the Norwegians to be traded by tomorrow? Is your captain failing to keep his team in line? What changes can we expect going forward? _

“Well,” Coulson says, mild as ever. “That was an unfortunate game.”

Thor hangs his head.

Loki glares at Thor. 

Steve just wants to get out of the damn TD Garden and onto the plane that will take them home. He wants this game out of his head, out of his memory. He wants to move on. 

“We have a bit of a homestand coming up,” Coulson says. “I’m going to take advantage of that time to meet with each player individually to discuss where you’re at in your development and where I hope to see you in a few months and by the end of the season. We’ll discuss tonight’s game more at practice tomorrow. I want you all at the rink at 9am.”

No one groans or even rolls their eyes even though that’s an early start, especially since they’re not going to touch down until midnight at the earliest. 

“Too much to hope we’re going to do that trust building shit they put us through in midgets?” Logan asks, quiet, once Coulson leaves them to finish getting changed.

Steve nods. “I’d get ready to bag skate until you collapse.”

Logan sighs. “Yeah, that’s what I figured.”

Steve remembers his midget days when they’d do trust fall exercises and go to Coney Island to foster teamwork. Now it’s an expectation that the team can function on its own, but clearly that was an expectation set too high.

Steve’ll start to deal with his piece of it tomorrow. Talking to either Thor or Loki when tempers are still running high will only create more problems.

When they board the plane Steve forgoes his seat next to Bucky, because Bucky’s got noise canceling headphones in and his eyes closed in a clear ‘don’t bother me’ signal. Steve sits with Hank McCoy instead, and the other defenseman eyes Steve, wary.

“You’re not getting a lecture,” Steve promises.

Hank relaxes minutely.

Clint’s in the seat in front of them, and Steve pokes his shoulder.

“You still carry playing cards with you?” Steve asks. 

“Yeah,” Clint says.

“Good. Get them out. You and Peter are playing cards with us.”

Steve can see the skepticism on both Peter and Hank’s faces, but Clint obligingly gets his cards out.

“We’re not going to mope the whole plane ride back to New York,” Steve says. “We’re about to give you Getting Over a Loss 101.”

“I thought you said no lecture,” Hank says, and his lips twitch like he wants to smile but he’s not quite sure he’s allowed after their shitshow of a game.

Clint laughs. “Cap’s a walking motivational poster. I’m not sure he knows how to turn off Captain Mode.”

“We’re playing President,” Steve says, shuffling the deck. “You two know how to play?”

“Grown-ups call it Asshole,” Clint tells them, “but Cap’s mouth is too pure to say words like that.”

“Go fuck yourself,” Steve tells him.

~*~

They get off the plane, and no one lingers. They go straight to their cars, eager to get home and catch some sleep before what promises to be a rough practice. 

Bucky doesn’t utter a word as they get into Steve’s car, doesn’t say anything on the drive home, and he still hasn’t said anything as Steve lets them into their apartment.

“This one wasn’t on you,” Steve says, because it needs to be said, because he needs to break the suffocating silence.

Bucky brushes past him and stalks into their bedroom.

“It wasn’t,” Steve says, trailing after him. “We were shit in front of you - bad coverage, bad match-ups - and that’s not even getting into the stupid penalties.”

Bucky whips around, a snarl in his eyes, in the twist of his lips. “Don’t captain me.”

“I’m not,” Steve says, and he can feel his own temper flaring, because he’s trying to do the right thing here.

He knows Bucky beats himself up after games, knows that he takes each goal scored against him as a personal insult, as a black mark he has to erase, but this game wasn’t his fault. Yeah, if he let in some soft goals or was coming too far out of his crease on a challenge Steve might say something or let the goalie coach address it next practice, but that isn’t the situation here.

What happened is that Bucky’s team let him down. Their forwards were out of position, the defense couldn’t cover their zone and the forwards’ zones, and they took a bunch of stupid penalties against a team that knows how to convert. 

“A better goalie would’ve pulled out a win.”

“There is no better goalie,” Steve says and Bucky rolls his eyes. “And, unless you’re suddenly Martin Brodeur, you couldn’t’ve turned our 0 zero goals into 1, let alone 5. We were shit this game. We were shit on the offensive end, and we were shit on the defensive end. None of that is on you.”

Bucky drops his travel bag on the floor and starts going through the dresser, slamming drawers harder than he needs to when they don’t reveal whatever it is he’s looking for.

“You know how I said don’t captain me?” Bucky asks, voice low, dangerous. “You’re doing it again.”

“It’s called being a friend,” Steve snaps. He snatches a pair of shorts and a t-shirt from his side of the dresser and stomps into the guest room. 

“Steve,” Bucky calls after him, but Steve ignores him, dropping his pajamas and his travel bag on the guest bed. He digs out his toiletry kit and goes to the guest bathroom to brush his teeth. 

If Bucky wants to sulk about the game then that’s his choice, but Steve’s not going to lie in bed next to him and watch the hard line of Bucky’s mouth or listen to him shift, restless, because he keeps running the game through his head. And if he’s going to be pissy that Steve’s trying to do the right thing; well, it’s best if Steve removes himself from Bucky’s proximity.

“Fucking drama queen!” Bucky yells at him and then there’s the sound of a door slamming.

Steve hunches his shoulders and brushes his teeth harder.

~*~

Steve doesn’t sleep well, and he’s bleary eyed and stumbling as he gets breakfast cooking the next morning. He didn’t like being in an unfamiliar room, and he didn’t like not being able to turn over and see Bucky, not being able to hear the steady breathing of his best friend.

Speaking of Bucky, his alarm goes off as Steve starts their eggs.

It goes off for the second time as Steve chops up some peppers and onions to add to the scramble. He hunts down some mushrooms and the rest of the turkey sausage and adds both things to the grocery list on the fridge.

When the alarm goes off for the third time, Steve contemplates going and making sure Bucky wakes up.

The alarm cuts off sooner than it usually does which means Bucky’s dragged himself out of bed. Steve looks up when Bucky emerges from the bedroom, dragging a hand down his face and grumbling about, “Fucking useless technology.”

Steve has two mugs of lukewarm coffee on the island waiting for Bucky, and Bucky drains the first one before he even registers he’s not the only one in the kitchen. He grunts something that might be ‘good morning’ but could just as easily be ‘fuck off, I hate you’ and then he starts on his second cup of coffee.

“There’s more if you need it,” Steve says, pointing the coffee machine. “And breakfast’s almost ready.”

“I’m going to need more,” Bucky says. “Why the fuck are we up right now?”

“Because we were shit last night?” Steve asks. “And Coulson wants to make sure we know it.”

“Pretty sure the whole world knows,” Bucky says. He goes to the coffee machine and refills both his mugs. 

“You have to eat something,” Steve says. “You can’t practice on just coffee.”

Bucky scowls at him, a hint of last night’s anger back on his face. 

Steve holds up his hands, because he doesn’t want to fight before practice. He doesn’t really want to fight at all. “Sorry. I’ll eat what I made. If you’re hungry you can make something yourself.”

“For fuck’s sake,” Bucky mutters. “We really doing this?”

Steve honestly has no idea what he’s talking about, but he knows if he says that it’s going to come out sounding confrontational. Steve settles for dumping half the eggs on one plate and leaving the other half in the pan. If Bucky wants them then he can serve himself.

“We are,” Bucky says, mostly to himself. He sets one of his coffee mugs down to he can rub his eyes. “Ground rules. We don’t talk about the game after losses. Not here at least. If Coulson wants to break it down, if you have to give your hoo-rah captain speech, we do it at the rink. Keep it out of our apartment.”

“I can do that,” Steve says. He knows the rule about not bringing work home with you, but when work is also your hobby and your life’s passion and the only interest you have it’s sometimes hard to get that separation. But he can keep losses out of the apartment. “What about wins? Can we talk about those?”

“Sure,” Bucky says, grabbing a potholder and the frying pan and joining Steve at the island. He plunks the potholder down on the table and sets the frying pan on top of it and starts eating right out of the pan. “No pep talks or pithy lines or any of that shit, though. I was serious last night. Don’t try to captain me here.”

Steve frowns as Bucky’s fork scrapes the bottom on the pan, but that’ll have to be a fight for a different day. “I was serious last night too. I wasn’t trying to captain you. I was trying to be your friend.”

“Yeah, well, don’t.”

“Fine,” Steve says, more bite to the word than he means to.

Bucky sighs. “I didn’t want to start the morning fighting. Today’s going to suck enough as it is.”

“I don’t like seeing you upset,” Steve says, poking at his eggs with his fork. “I want to help.”

“Not even Captain America can fix everyone,” Bucky says, nudging Steve’s knee with his. “Sometimes I just need to be mad about a game.”

“I don’t like it,” Steve grumbles, aware that he sounds like a three year old.

“I can go to Natasha’s,” Bucky offers. 

“No, it’s fine,” Steve says, because an angry Bucky in his apartment is better than no Bucky in his apartment. “And I’m sorry about throwing a tantrum last night.”

“Not like I was the paragon of maturity either.”

Steve’s alarm beeps, warning him that they’ve got fifteen minutes before they have to be on the way to practice.

“Ugh,” Steve says and starts shoveling eggs into his mouth.

“If you puke at practice I’m laughing at you forever,” Bucky warns.

Steve flips him off, and Bucky cracks his first smile since before Boston, and something in Steve’s chest loosens. They’re going to be alright.

Now he just has to get his team on track.

~*~

It doesn’t surprise Steve that Thor and Loki don’t come to practice together, but it does surprise him to see Thor already in locker room when Steve and Bucky show up. They’re usually the first two at practice - Steve because he likes to set a good example and Bucky because he likes to have a couple moments of quiet to himself before everyone else pours in - but Thor’s already there, sitting in front of his stall, head bowed.

As soon as Bucky sees him, he quickly backs out of the locker room, mimicking something that might be icing his knee or that he’s going to kick a soccer ball around in the hallway. It’s difficult to tell which. Either way, he’s a coward, and now Steve’s alone with Thor.

Thor still hasn’t noticed that there’s someone else in the locker room, and Steve could also find something to occupy himself with, but he wanted to have a chat with the man and now, when the locker room is deserted, seems like a good time to do it.

“You’re here early,” Steve says, sitting down next to Thor.

Thor lifts his head from his hands. “I have many thoughts in my head this morning.”

“I’m sure,” Steve says.

“My behavior last night was unacceptable,” he says. “I am ashamed of it.”

Steve can’t disagree with any of that so he doesn’t. 

“I brought shame to myself and my team, and now I have brought punishment to them as well. I asked Coach if I could bear the full load of his anger, and he said no.”

“You’re not the only one Coulson’s unhappy with,” Steve says, because Thor seems genuinely torn up about this. “You and Loki had the most, uh, visible, breakdown last night, but none of us were great. We failed as a team, and we’re going to pay for it as a team. And then,” Steve adds, because Thor’s looking even  _ more _ defeated, “We’re going to overcome as a team. Believe me, part of me would love to throw the blame for last night on someone else, but I can’t. I didn’t play my best, you didn’t play your best, no one played their best last night. That’s something we’ve got to own if we’re going to move past it. Whatever Coulson does today at practice, it’s not because of you. It’s because of the team. And if anyone tries to say otherwise, you point them in my direction and I’ll set them straight.”

“Thank you,” Thor says, genuine, and he reaches out to grip Steve’s shoulder. “I will strive to be better.”

“That’s all any of us can do,” Steve says. “You have a place to stay while you and Loki work your shit out?”

“Aye. Sam offered me his extra bed last night. He’s in with the trainers right now. He has a nasty bruise. He spent most of last night muttering about Talbot.”

“The man hits hard,” Steve says. “If you’re good then I’m going to start getting changed. Last thing we need today is to be late for practice.”

Thor laughs, but it’s not as loud or booming as his usual laughter. “Truth.”

Steve gets into his gear; well, everything but his skates, because he wants to check-in with the trainer, and he hates waddling around on his skates. He passes Bucky in the hallway and can’t resist saying, “Locker room is safe to be in now,” because he’s not going to easily forget that Bucky left him alone with a brooding Thor.

“Just giving my captain the space his needs to do his captain thing,” Bucky smirks.

Steve flips him off and continues on his way to the trainer’s room. Sam’s up on one of the benches, shirt off, icing what is a truly impressive bruise.

“Almost as big as the one I got blocking a Chara shot last year,” Sam says with a grin. “Bit of advice for you - if you see Chara winding up, get the hell out of the way.”

Steve laughs and leans against Sam’s bench. “And get an earful from Bucky later? Nah, better to take the bruise.”

“Goalies look like puffed up marshmallows for a reason,” Sam says. “I’m pretty sure a Chara shot could crack a rib. I’m not certain it didn’t.”

“Has he been whining like this since he got here?” Steve asks Dr. Grey, the team’s head trainer. 

“Worse,” Dr. Grey says, and she smiles as Sam’s squawk of outrage.

“I’m wounded, man,” Sam says. “I nobly sacrificed by body for the team, and this is the thanks I get?”

Steve claps Sam on the back, careful not to jostle the ice pack. “Thanks,” he says and quickly dodges Sam’s retaliatory pinch. 

“Next game you’re leading the team in blocked shots!” Sam calls as Steve makes the trek back to the locker room.

He has to pass the stick room on the way, and Loki happens to be in there, cutting a few of his sticks down to their ideal size, and Steve figures this is the best chance he’ll have to get Loki alone without making a scene.

Steve waits until the saw’s turned off to say, “Stick giving you trouble?”

Loki glances over before he begins cutting down the next one. “I like to start every practice with a new stick. Practice how you play, right?”

“Sure,” Steve says. He’s in the use a stick until it breaks on you camp, but every player has their own idiosyncrasies. Clint, for example, always tapes his blade with white tape so he can draw a bullseye on where he wants to catch the puck on a pass. Logan switches between white tape and black tape depending on which color is getting him up on the board. He starts every season with black and every time he goes without a point he switches colors, sticking with a color as long as his point streak lasts.

Steve would judge, but; well, he’s got enough of his own weird habits that he can’t judge anyone else’s. 

Loki cuts down two more sticks before he pauses and looks over at Steve. “You want my full attention before you start the lecture?”

“Wasn’t looking to give a lecture,” Steve says, “and I’ve seen you on the ice. You’re good at multi-tasking.”

“No lecture and a compliment?” Loki asks. “You’re buttering me up for something.”

“I’m just curious about the why,” Steve says. “I’m not going to lie and say I don’t think about whacking my teammates once in awhile, but I’ve never given into the temptation.”

“Actions speak louder than words,” Loki says with a twist to his mouth. “He wouldn’t listen when I told him to stop being an idiot so I figured I’d try doing something.”

“Ah,” Steve says. 

“Best case scenario, he’d shape up,” Loki says. “Second best, he’d be too busy bleeding on the bench to be on my next shift screwing everything up.”

“And instead we got worst case scenario,” Steve says.

Loki looks at him with condescension and a touch of pity. “Worst case scenario was he’d drop the gloves against me, but he’s only done that once so I decided it wasn’t a likely outcome.”

“Right,” Steve says. 

“He was out of position all game long,” Loki says, “and half the time it was because he was going out of his way to make hits. He knows better than that.”

“Maybe in the future let the coaches deal with his playing,” Steve says. “Believe me, if he’s not being responsible in his own zone then Coulson’ll take him to task for it. It’s not something you need to worry about.”

“It’s my job to the responsible one between us two,” Loki says.

“And high sticking your own teammate is responsible?” Steve asks.

Loki frowns but he doesn’t have a rebuttal.

“I’m not saying everything’s going to be great between you two all the time,” Steve says. He has plenty of second hand experience and now first hand experience that they’re a volatile pair but, “Learn how to deal with it. First and foremost, keep your fights off the ice. Tell Coulson or one of the assistant coaches if you think Thor needs a wake up call or if you need to be on different lines for a bit. Don’t let your frustration build until you’re taking it out on each other.”

“Thought you said no lecture,” Loki says.

“It’s not,” Steve tells him. “This is common sense.” Loki looks a bit chagrined, and Steve will take that for now. “Now, come on, we don’t want to be late for practice. We’re in enough shit as it is.”

Steve doesn’t feel good, but he feels settled as he and Loki head to the locker room together. Today’s practice will go a long way to making things better. Steve’ll come out of panting and exhausted and feeling like he wants to throw up, but bag skates aren’t supposed to be fun.

He sees them as a penance, and once the team’s done it, they can move on. They’ll have paid for Boston and then they can put it behind them and look forward. Steve doesn’t  _ like _ bag skates, but he understands that sometimes he needs them, and he likes the absolution they bring. 

He just hopes they won’t need to do another for the rest of the season.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story was written before PK Subban got traded, and I'm still in a state of denial so at least in this universe he's still a Canadien.
> 
> Also, sorry for the delayed update. I totally forgot that today was Wednesday.

Two teammates - two  _ brothers _ \- getting into a fight on the ice would be a big story no matter what. Coach Coulson deciding to start them on the same line next game keeps it a story. 

There are no dropped gloves, no high sticks, nothing of that sort. If anything, they both play subdued, but Steve trusts that they’ll find their rhythm again. It’s what he tells the reporters after their game against the Devils, and it’s what he tells the reporters  _ again  _ after their game against the Panthers.

“Dude,” Clint says, coming into the locker room, brandishing his phone. He goes up to Bruce. “The hell did you do to Ross? This is the fifth article he’s written about how you’re the root of conflict in the locker room. Fifth  _ this week _ . You’re like the chillest guy I know.”

“I thought you were going to stop reading the press,” Steve says, hiding his wince, because going up a teammate and saying ‘hey why does everyone think you’re a shitty team player’ isn’t exactly the kind of thing they want to be doing in their locker room.

“I’ve stopped reading  _ my  _ press,” Clint says. “But it’s like a seven step thing. Or maybe 21. Each step is a different person on the team. You want to hear what Madden said about you on his latest radio show?”

“No,” Steve says. He’s sure it isn’t flattering, and he doesn’t need to let a reporter get in his head. He’s got plenty of other things to worry about without causing trouble for himself.

“Anyways,” Clint says, turning his attention back to Bruce. “I went through the archive. He’s been on your ass since like, forever.”

“Since college,” Bruce says. 

Bruce is one of the few hockey players who finished out four years of college. It’s a toss up whether players will play NCAA hockey or choose to play in a junior league, but those who do go the college route usually get drafted after their freshman year and go to play in the NHL or for an NHL farm team. Some guys will stay for their sophomore or junior years to get a bit more development in, but it’s rare for an NHL prospect to graduate.

Steve’s heard that not only did Bruce graduate, but he was valedictorian with a degree in physics. Apparently he wrote his senior thesis on the difference between figure skates and hockey skates and how they’re each optimal for the kind of skating their athletes do. 

“How’d you get on Ross’s shit list in college?” Clint asks. “I didn’t know he covered college hockey.”

“I started dating his daughter,” Bruce says.

The entire locker room stops what they’re doing and turns to stare.

“Well,” Sam says, “That’ll do it.”

“Holy shit,” Clint says. “You dated Thunderbolt Ross’s daughter? Have you seen the clips of him fighting? He spent more time in the box than Tie Domi.”

“Dat _ ing _ ,” Bruce says, untaping his socks. “We’re still together.”

“What?” Clint looks around the room. “Did anyone else know this?”

Steve certainly didn’t, but he doesn’t make a habit of prying into his teammate’s private lives. If they volunteer information then he’ll certainly listen and he’ll remember, but he gets wanting to keep some things for yourself. 

How Bruce has managed to keep this a secret is somewhat beyond Steve, though.

“Ross isn’t big on people knowing,” Bruce says. “But yeah, Betty and I have been together since my freshman year of college.”

“Holy shit,” Clint says. “That’s like - commitment.”

“Ignore him,” Steve tells Bruce, because the man’s beginning to look a little overwhelmed. “The biggest commitment he’s had in his life is with a Chipotle burrito.”

“Dude, those things are  _ massive _ ,” Clint says. “It took me almost ten minutes to put that thing away.”

_ See _ , Steve’s expression says, and Bruce offers up a weak smile, but his shoulders are drawn up around his ears, and he still has the attention of most the locker room. Steve glances around the room, looking for back-up, and it’s Wade that comes to his rescue.

“Commitment isn’t overrated,” Wade says, “ _ Monogamy _ is. Vanessa, my girlfriend, is the best. We’re both a-okay to fuck other people as long as we Skype or facetime the other person while it happens.”

It’s not quite the conversation shift Steve was hoping for, but now everyone’s pressing Wade for personal details instead of Bruce, and Wade looks to be completely in his element. Steve also thinks he’s making a ton of shit up. But who knows, maybe they do have holiday-themed sex marathons. Steve really doesn’t need to know the details about that.

“This is what you dragged my ass to America for?” Bucky asks, unbuckling his pads, as Wade tells everyone that pegging’s a little weird the first time you try it but it’ll totally blow your brain (and your load) if you give it a couple gos.

“I’m so sorry,” Steve says.

~*~

Their first long road trip of the season is their annual Canada road trip. They’ve got a game in each Canadian city and then they get a short break at home before they go back out west for their California trip.

“I don’t see why we don’t just lump it all together,” Clint says as they wait to board their charter. “It’s not that long a flight from Edmonton down to Anaheim.”

“San Jose is the furthest north of the California teams,” Natasha says. “Anaheim’s actually the most southern.”

“Really?” Sam asks. “Huh.”

“No offense,” Steve says, “but how does our only Russian born player know our country better than you do?”

“Oh, and  _ you  _ know your California geography?” Sam asks.

“I know my hockey geography,” Steve answers. “And the reason why we’re not lumping it all together is because I don’t think our team could handle a road trip that long.”

“Plus, why pollute our Canada trip with  _ California _ ?” Logan asks. 

“Well, we’re polluting it with  _ Edmonton _ ,” Clint says.

“And Calgary,” Sam adds.

Logan growls.

“He’s from Alberta,” Steve reminds everyone.

He gets blank looks from both Sam and Clint.

Steve sighs. “Edmonton and Calgary are both in Alberta. If you want to talk shit, talk about the Canucks. Everyone hates the Canucks.”

“Fucking right they do,” Logan says.

~*~

The new CBA means veteran players don’t have to share hotel rooms on the road, but Steve still opens his up as a place to hang out after team dinner in Montreal. A couple of the younger guys are down in the one of the ballrooms they rented and outfitted with a Wii and an Xbox, and Steve’s pretty sure Clint’s down there too, supposedly keeping an eye on them.

In reality, he’s probably setting up a Mario Kart tournament that’s going to end with a Wii remote going through a TV screen or one of the rookies crying.

T’Challa is at dinner with Subban and Price, because he played junior hockey with Subban, and Steve’s pretty sure Subban and Price are attached at the hip. Of course, he doesn’t have much room to talk, because Bucky’s currently sprawled next to him on one of the beds in Steve’s room. 

Sam and Natasha are on the other, and Sam’s hilariously trying to keep two feet of space between them at all times. Bucky and Steve have separate pillows, but their legs are tangled together as they watch  _ Friends _ reruns. 

“How much you wanna bet Clint’s won every tournament so far?” Steve asks, tucking his toes between Bucky’s calves, because he always gets cold in hotel rooms.

“I don’t bet with you,” Sam says, “Remember?”

“How soon until they all gang up on him?” Bucky asks. He frowns at Steve and his cold toes, but he doesn’t move away. “That’s what I would do.”

“Which is exactly why Clint would never play against you,” Steve says. “The trick to winning video games is to make sure you only challenge people you can beat.”

“That’s the trick to winning anything,” Natasha says. 

“True,” Steve says.

Bucky laughs. “Dumbass.”

“Hey, you should be nice to me. I’m the one sacrificing my body to protect you tomorrow at our game.”

“You?” Sam demands. “You blocked, what, two shots last game? Just because you can’t see my bruises from space like you and your white ass skin doesn’t mean I don’t have them.” He rips his shirt off to prove his point. “You see that?  _ This  _ is what sacrifice looks like.”

“Very noble,” Natasha says, and Sam must’ve forgotten she was in the room with them, because he makes a sound and then falls off the bed in his haste to get away from her and then get his shirt back on.

“I think she’s seen you shirtless before,” Steve says.

Next to him, Bucky’s laughing too hard to say anything.

“I’m being  _ respectful _ ,” Sam says, glaring and trying to salvage what’s left of his dignity. Steve’s not sure there’s all that much there to salvage. “Pepper was  _ very  _ clear about setting the right standard for men and women on the same hockey team. And that means being fully clothed around each other. Except the locker room, obviously.”

“Obviously,” Steve mocks.

“I hate you,” Sam says. He jabs a finger at Bucky who’s still laughing. “You too, buddy.”

“What about me?” Natasha asks.

Sam finally gets his shirt back on, and he drops down next to Steve and Bucky on their bed. “Let’s just go back to watching  _ Friends _ .”

“Seriously?” Steve asks as Sam pushes at him and Bucky to get more space.

Bucky laughs again and slips out from between them to join Natasha on her bed. “I’ll be your friend,” Bucky says, “I’m not afraid of your girl cooties.”

“That’s not - ugh,” Sam says. He drops his head on Steve’s shoulder. “You’re my d-partner. You’re on my side, right?”

“Sure,” Steve says.

“That is not the ringing endorsement I was hoping for,” Sam says.

He takes Bucky’s pillow and moves this way and that way until he gets comfortable. Steve waits until he’s finally stopped moving around to tuck his feet between Sam’s calves.

“The fuck!” Sam yelps, jerking away. “Your feet are  _ cold _ .”

“Sucker,” Bucky laughs.

~*~

They win in Montreal 4-2, and Steve comes out of it with two nasty bruises courtesy of P.K. Subban’s slapshot.

“No sympathy,” Sam says when Steve comes back from the trainer’s office with an ice pack wrapped around his torso.

“Dude, really?” Clint asks. He crosses the locker room to take a peek underneath Steve’s ice pack. “That looks nasty.”

“At least some people appreciate me,” Steve says, and he smirks at Sam over the top of Clint’s head.

“When you least expect it, I’m going to get you,” Sam promises. 

“Better watch out for high sticks,” Wade says.

The entire locker room fall silent.

“What?” Wade asks. “Too soon?”

~*~

They’re all half-awake and going through the buffet line at breakfast at their hotel in Toronto when Peter drops a plate on his finger, catching it against the table.

“Ow,” Peter says, shaking his hand out. He pokes Hank McCoy’s shoulder. “I hurt my finger.”

“Yeah,” Hank says. “What do you want me to do about it?”

“Make it stop hurting,” Peter says, staring down at his finger, bottom lip jutted out, like he’s been betrayed. 

“I’m a hockey player,” Hank says, “Not a doctor.”

Wade flits by, grabbing Peter’s hand and smacking a loud kiss to the injured finger. “There. Better.”

Peter stares after him, mouth hanging open, and Steve takes that as his cue to go rescue the rookie. 

“You okay?” Steve asks,

Peter’s eyes go wide and he pulls himself upright. “I’m fine. I’m good, Cap. Ready to play tonight. Just a little bruise. Um -”

“Relax,” Steve says. “I’m not going to pull you from the game. That’s not my job.”

“Good,” Peter says. “Because I’m fine. My finger doesn’t even hurt. I just kind of said ‘ow’ because reflex, you know?”

Maybe Steve coming over is causing Peter more stress than leaving him to be doctored by Wade. 

“You’re holding up the line,” Steve tells him. “Finish getting your breakfast, and find someplace quiet to eat it. Make sure you get enough protein and carbohydrates.”

“And fruit,” Bucky says, slinging an arm around Steve’s shoulders and joining their conversation. “You want to make sure you have a healthy, balanced diet.”

Peter nods along solemnly, like Bucky’s delivering the hockey gospel and not mocking Steve. Steve, keeping his Captain Smile firmly fixed on his face, reaches around Bucky’s side to pinch him. Bucky, the asshole, just laughs.

~*~

They win against Toronto and then they take on the Senators, and Richards gets the start to give Bucky a much deserved break.

They scrape out a win in overtime, and then they’re off to Calgary, but at least they get a day off before they have to play again. What they’re going to do in Calgary, Steve has no idea. He likes their California road trips when they can scrounge up an off day on the beach. 

It’s in Calgary that they get their first blowout of the season, winning 7-2. Natasha and Clint each got two goals apiece and an assist on each other’s goals, giving the two of them a four point night each. 

Everyone’s spirits are high, and Steve’s pretty sure Coulson’ll let them break open a bottle of champagne or something on the plane, because it was a hell of a night for their team. Even the media is all smiles as they do their post-game scrums. 

The only person who isn’t smiling is Hank when he emerges from the showers and -

“Are you  _ blue _ ?” Sam asks as Hank comes into the locker room with a towel around his waist and blue-tinged skin.

“Please tell me that’s a prank, and that you’re not sick,” Steve says.

Hank looks down at his hands and frowns. “I think someone put Kool-Aid in my shower.”

“At least it was after we played Toronto,” Sam says.

“It’ll wash off,” Steve says. Hopefully before they play Vancouver.

“The blue beast!” Wade shouts, spotting him, and that’s the end of the encouraging words.

“Blue?”

“Is it permanent?”

“Dude, what’d you do?”

“Is it everywhere?”

Everyone stops poking at Hank to look at Clint.

“What?” Clint asks. “I’m just saying - it’d give a whole new meaning to the phrase  _ blue balls _ .”

Hank looks like he wants the ground to open up and devour all of his teammates.

~*~

They lose in overtime to Vancouver, lose in a shootout to Calgary, and then manage to scrape out an OT win over Edmonton which means they fly home on a win but, more importantly, they got at least a point out of every game on their road trip.

Coulson gives them the next day off and then they have an optional skate that most the team shows up to.

It’s a relaxed skate, a chance to shake out their legs and work a couple of things, but tomorrow will be their grueling practice, where they’ll go over the game plan for Washington. Steve’s looking forward to facing Ovechkin and Backstrom after a season of playing with them. He’s gotten a better idea of their habits and how to cover them. Of course, he’s also gotten a better idea of their ridiculous chemistry.

Backstrom has an unnerving talent for slipping into the background, for letting Ovechkin claim everyone’s attention, and it opens up space for Backstrom to make unreal plays. Steve can’t let himself get distracted by Ovechkin. They can’t afford to lose track of a player as talented as Backstrom is. Not if they want to get out of the game with a W. 

But that’s a consideration for tomorrow.

Today’s practice is much lighter, and they’re focused on what they do well and making sure they continue to do it well rather than on what Washington is going to do. 

It’s also an opportunity for Steve to check-in with everyone, see how they’re doing. He skates over to the rookies to see how they’re holding up so far in their first NHL season, and he frowns when they immediately stop talking and look at him with wide, attentive eyes.

They’re plotting something.

He doesn’t know what, because he didn’t overhear anything, but they’re the least subtle bunch he’s ever met.

And that’s saying something.

“You guys good?” Steve asks.

“Yeah,” Bobby says.

“Of course we are,” Peter adds. “Why wouldn’t we be?”

Bobby rolls his eyes and Hank smacks the back of Peter’s legs with his stick.

“Right,” Steve says. He’s going to have to keep an eye out to make sure he doesn’t walk into any shaving cream pies or end up with itching powder in his jerseys or whatever they’re up to. He doesn’t think they’re quite bold enough to prank their captain yet, but who knows.

“Rookies are up to something,” he warns Bucky when practice is over.

If he didn’t think they were up to something before, he definitely does now, and he knows it’s going to happen soon, because the rookies are doing their post-practice puck clean-up with more speed and enthusiasm than he’s seen yet.

“Huh,” Bucky says, watching as Bobby doesn’t even take a few extra shots at the net, just picks up the pucks in reach and drops them into the puck bucket. “We know who the target is?”

“Nope,” Steve says. 

They troop back to the locker room, and if Steve’s a little careful with his equipment as he changes into street clothes or if he’s a little twitchy whenever someone pops up in his peripheral vision then that’s his business.

Peter, Hank, and Bobby get to the locker room around the same time most of the guys are getting out of the shower - Steve took a lightning quick one just in case, but the showers seemed to have been safe.

For a while, Steve thinks he’s just being paranoid because nothing’s happened, but then Wade cocks his head to the side and looks down at his boxers and asks, “Did someone put Icy Hot in my boxers?”

Steve winces because his whole team tried that in Juniors once. It had started out as a stupid dare that kept building and building until the entire team decided to slap some Icy Hot on their junk.

…It was not one of the best decisions Steve’s ever made in his life. At first it felt like his dick had turned into an icicle and that any sudden movement would snap it clean off, and then it was just burning. It was awful.

“Thanks,” Wade says and then pulls his jeans on like nothing out of the ordinary is going on.

“You need help,” Logan tells him.

Wade shrugs. “It tickles.”

That is  _ not _ the experience Steve had with Icy Hot, but he’s not about to repeat it to see if things have changed. Probably, Wade’s just weird. 

“And people talk shit about goalies,” Bucky mutters, and Steve does his best to hold back his laugh.


	7. Chapter 7

They get on a bit of a losing streak as October winds down, but Stark still hosts a Halloween party for the team, and Steve insists on everyone attending, because team bonding and team morale is important. There’s no reason to punish themselves for losing.

Because it’s at Stark’s mansion, he makes the rules for the party, and he decides to host an Original Superheros party, where everyone has to show up as a superhero that doesn’t already exist. 

“My idea of Halloween creativity is browsing online costume stores,” Steve laments.

He and Bucky have Clint, Natasha, and Sam over for a brainstorming session. Bruce has already come up with his idea - everyone already calls him the Hulk so he’s going to turn it into a superhero. Same with Logan. He’s going to become The Wolverine; though, he won’t tell anyone what exactly that means. Peter’s going as Spiderman, but the rest of them are stuck on what to do.

“And you still end up with shitty costumes,” Clint says.

Steve flips him off. 

“I’m going as the Black Widow,” Natasha says. “But it needs a twist. I don’t want to look like a spider.”

“Too many legs,” Sam agrees. “Peter’s doing something with spandex I think.”

“The key component to any superhero outfit,” Bucky says. “Haven’t you seen Superman?”

“I’m not wearing my underwear on the outside of my pants,” Steve says.

“You could just skip your underwear all together,” Clint says. “I think that’s what I’m going to do.”

“No one needed to know that,” Sam says. 

Clint shrugs. 

“Alright,” Steve says, getting beers for all of them. They’re gathered around the island counter, like a council of sorts. “Natasha’s got an idea. Clint, you have any thoughts?”

“For a name? No. But I’ve got these purple booty shorts that I never have a reason to wear.”

“You  _ still  _ don’t have a reason to wear them,” Sam says.

“I’m so wearing them,” Clint says. 

“I’m going blindfolded or something,” Sam says. “Nobody needs to see your ass in purple spandex.”

Steve ducks to hide his smile, because Sam’s just guaranteed that someone’s going to plaster his stall with pictures of Clint’s ass. Steve might even do it himself. 

“Alright,” Bucky says, “Clint’s covered, or, not covered as it is. Sam, what’re your plans?”

“Wings,” Sam says. “There aren’t enough superheroes that can fly.”

“Wings and a blindfold,” Steve says, “Nothing can go wrong with that.”

“Alright,” Sam says, “What’s your plan big guy?”

Steve still doesn’t have a plan. He regrets making the party mandatory. Maybe he can escape to the bathroom and wiggle out a window or something after he’s made an appearance. One of the things he likes about hockey is all the padding. He has the utmost respect for track athletes and even his ice athlete cousins, figure skaters, but he’s very glad he doesn’t have to wear anything tight fitting.

Yeah, he wears compression shorts and underarmor but then he gets to strap on all his padding and then cover it all with his jersey and his pants. He’s not sure he wants to be paraded in front of cameras in superhero spandex.

“Captain Hockey?” Steve asks. That would let him wear all his gear and it might get sweaty, and it’d definitely reek, but at least he’d be covered.

Clint rolls his eyes. 

“You’re Captain America, not Captain Hockey,” Sam says.

Clint gasps.

“No,” Steve says.

“ _ Yes _ ,” Sam says. “I’m fucking brilliant. You can go as Captain America.”

“What the fuck even is that?” Steve demands.

“Red, white, and blue booty shorts,” Clint says.

“Absolutely not.”

Next to Steve, Bucky’s shaking with laughter.

“Shut up, asshole,” Steve says, smacking his shoulder. “This isn’t funny. I’m not going as Captain America.”

“Obviously you should have a shield,” Natasha says, and she isn’t cowed for a second by Steve’s glare. “You’re a d-man which means you should have a defensive tool rather than a weapon.”

“Fine,” Steve says, resigning himself to being called Captain America for the rest of his career. He looks over at Bucky. “Just you now.”

“Russia,” Clint says. “If Steve’s going as Captain America then you should go as something Russia. The new Cold War.”

“We don’t hate each other,” Steve says.

“It’ll be our own miracle on ice,” Sam says, grinning.

Steve’s not the only one to groan. 

“Captain Communism?” Clint asks. “Lieutenant Lenin? Uh...Staff Sergeant Stalin?”

“Please stop talking,” Natasha says.

“The Winter Soldier,” Bucky says. 

“The what?” Sam asks.

“You’ll see at the party,” Bucky says. He raises his beer. “To Tony Stark’s weird fucking ideas.”

They clink their bottles together, and then take a collective drink from their beers. 

~*~

“Is it too late to add a mask to my costume?” Steve asks as he and Bucky get ready for the party.

Somehow (Steve’s not sure whether to blame Bucky or Natasha for this one) Steve’s in skin tight blue pants that leave absolutely nothing to the imagination. When he pointed out the problem of underwear lines, Bucky had just leered and told him to go without. 

This, at least, answers the question of why Superman wore his underwear on the outside. 

And had a cape.

Maybe Steve should have a cape that he can wrap around himself whenever someone tries to take a picture of him.

“And hide your sweet, smiling face?” Bucky calls from the bathroom. “You’d make Pepper cry.”

“Ugh,” Steve says.

“Such a burden,” Bucky says, “Being the face of the franchise. I don’t know how you do it.”

“I hate you,” Steve says, adjusting his top (also skin tight) and frowning at the mirror in their bedroom. 

“No you don’t,” Bucky says.

He swaggers out of the bathroom, and Steve’s mouth falls open. Bucky’s been secretive about what The Winter Soldier will look like, and this is the first time Steve’s seen him in the outfit. Black boots, black pants, some kind of black utility belt, black vest, and - silver arm?

“Woah,” Steve says, coming over to poke at it.

“It’s paint,” Bucky says.

His entire left arm’s been spray painted silver and then someone drew on it in black sharpie to make it look the like arm is a metal prosthetic.

“This is your superpower?” Steve asks, tracing over the red star on Bucky’s arm.

“Sort of. We’re going to the hospital first. I figured there were probably some kids who might want to see a superhero that’s got an arm like them or something.”

Bucky shrugs, embarrassed, and he starts to pull away, but Steve yanks him forward and kisses him.

“You’re fucking incredible,” Steve tells him.

Before the team crashes the mansion for the party part of the evening, they’re paying a visit to the local children’s hospital, to say hi to them in costume and give them candy or sign jerseys for them. The outreach part of being a hockey player is one of Steve’s favorite parts. He’s been blessed enough to do something he loves for a living, and he’s even more blessed that just saying hi to a kid can make their face light up, can make their entire day.

He doesn’t really get what makes him so special, what makes any of his teammates special like that, but he embraces it and the opportunity it gives him to make people happy. 

He thinks they’re going to make a lot of kids happy tonight.

“We’re going to be late,” Bucky says.

“Yeah.” Steve forces himself to stop staring - Bucky’s wearing his hair down and all Steve wants to do is grab two fistfuls of it and kiss him again. They’ll have plenty of time later tonight for that. 

For now, they’ve got a cab to catch. 

~*~

Most of the team is milling around the hospital lobby along with camera crew from  _ Avengers Assembled _ and a couple of their reporters. 

Sam’s showing off the, admittedly, impressive wings he’s spent the past two weeks making, but Steve bypasses him to talk to Wade, because he’s the only person who isn’t in costume. 

“You need to swing by a store or something?” Steve asks, coming up next to him.

Wade, an unusually solemn expression on his face, shakes his head. “I’ve got a costume for the party. It’s in my bag.” He holds up his backpack. “But I talked to the people who set this up, and I’m going to the cancer ward, and I know the costumes are fun and cheer them up, but I thought -” he breaks off and looks away. “Pretty fucking arrogant to say I don’t need a costume to be a superhero.”

Steve clasps Wade’s shoulder, waits until the other man looks up at him to say, “Pretty fucking true though. You have someone going with you?”

“Yeah, Sam’s already volunteered. We’re gonna be the Wilson team.”

“Good,” Steve says. He debates for a moment before pulling Wade in for a hug. “You’re a good guy, Wade. You know that?”

~*~

A nurse in Superman scrubs hands out their assignments, and then they go in groups of two or three to different floors so every kid in the hospital will get a visit from someone before the night is over. Steve’s got a basket of nurse-approved candy and little toys and things to hand out in a reverse trick-or-treating sort of thing. 

In the first room they go to, there are four beds, two along each wall, and Steve sits down to talk to the two kids on the left side of the room and Bucky goes over to the two kids on the right. 

They’ve got pumpkin bags hanging on the sides of their hospital beds, and Steve drops a piece of candy and a toy into each before he says, “Do you want to talk about hockey or about superheroes?”

“Hockey,” the little girl says. “My brother says hockey players hit people a lot. Do you hit people?”

“Not very often,” Steve says. “Sometimes I’ll push ‘em into the boards if I’m going after the puck, but I don’t try and hurt people.”

“Do you drop your gloves a lot?” the other girl asks. “They showed us a video earlier today, and these two guys were punching each other and got really bloody.”

“Uh,” Steve says, and he’s glad the camera crew isn’t with him in this room. “I try not to do that either.”

“But sometimes?”

The two girls lean in close, like they’re expecting him to tell them a secret.

“Sometimes,” he says, because he doesn’t believe in lying. “You see that guy over there?” He points behind him to where Bucky’s letting the two girls on the other side of the room touch his “metal” arm. “That’s Bucky. He’s my goalie. Did your video or your brother tell you the first rule of hockey?”

The two girls shake their heads.

“Always protect your goalie,” Steve says. “Bucky’s my goalie so I gotta protect him. And sometimes that means I have to remind people that they don’t mess with my goalie.”

“By dropping your gloves?”

Steve nods. “By dropping my gloves.”

Both girls look over at Bucky with wide eyes. “If you fight for him does that mean he’s your best friend?”

“If you fight for him does that mean you’re his knight in shining armor?” the other asks.

“He’s my best friend in the whole world,” Steve answers. “But I’m not a knight. I’m not even anyone really special.”

“You’re a superhero.” The girl on his left tugs on his sleeve. “What superhero are you?”

“I’m Captain America,” he says, holding up his shield for her to see. “But my real name is Steve. What’s yours?”

“I’m Isabella,” says the girl who asked if he was Bucky’s knight in shining armor.

“And I’m Mikayla.”

“We’re having a party tomorrow night,” Isabella says. “I’m going to be Cinderella.”

“And I’m going to be Mushu from Mulan,” Mikayla says.

“The dragon?”

Mikayla nods. 

“He’s more like a lizard,” Isabella says.

“At least I won’t be missing a shoe all night,” Mikayla says.

“You’ll be missing both. Dragons don’t wear shoes.”

“Well,” Steve says, hoping to stave off a fight. “I’m sure you’ll both look really nice. I think Bucky and I need to keep going, though. Can I get a hug before I go?”

Both girls scramble to hug him and then Steve meets up with Bucky so they can go to the next room.

~*~

After they finish their rounds at the hospital, team cars drive them over to the mansion for the party.

No one says anything about how Wade’s eyes are a bit redder than they usually are, and no one gives him a hard time about changing into a costume with a full face mask. 

They take a couple team pictures while they’ve got everyone in one place and while everyone’s costumes are still in one piece, and then they’re turned loose on the party. Someone’s decorated Stark’s backyard with a Halloween theme and his ballroom has been converted into something that looks more like a nightclub scene than a place where people waltz.

“A ballroom?” Bucky asks as they go searching for the drink table. “Who the hell even has those anymore?”

“Really rich people,” Steve says. 

They get stopped four or five times on the way to their destination, people who want pictures or to make small talk, but they eventually find the bar. There’s an older gentleman manning it, and he’s one of the few people in formal wear rather than a costume.

“Let me guess,” Bucky says, “You’re Alfred from  _ Batman _ .”

“Jarvis,” the man says. 

“Huh,” Bucky says, “Haven’t heard of that one.”

“Can I get you something to drink?” Jarvis asks.

“Just a beer, please,” Steve says. 

“Shot of vodka,” Bucky says.

Steve frowns at him. 

“Don’t give me that look,” Bucky says.

“I’m giving you this look.” Steve crosses his arms over his chest. “Because you’re going to do what you always do which is knock back your shot and then steal my beer.”

“I would never,” Bucky says which is a blatant lie.

Jarvis sets an open beer in front of Steve and a shot of vodka in front of Bucky.

Bucky knocks it back and then shakes his head when Steve holds his beer protectively towards his body.

“Could I get a beer too?” Bucky asks. “Since Captain America here doesn’t know how to share.”

Steve has a couple choice words for Bucky, but none that he’s going to say under the watchful, and judgmental eye, of Jarvis. Bucky gets his beer and then they wander outside to see if they can get a little time just to themselves. 

They’re stopped by Pepper who tells them to lower their drinks and then she snaps a couple shots of them for the website and then they run into their trainer who reminds them not to drink too many empty calories and then they run into a couple of fans and when they finally get outside, the yard is just as packed as the ballroom.

Stark’s set up a variety of classic Halloween games from bobbing for apples to eating donuts off a string, and he’s mixed them in with other party games - pin the logo on the superhero, Batman-themed cornhole, and a something-themed Kan Jam. 

“I don’t know that one,” Steve says, frowning at the red and gold themed game. 

“That’s Iron Man,” Logan says, coming over to them, Molson in hand. 

“Iron Man?” Steve asks.

Logan points to the far side of the patio where Stark is chatting up some of the front office management while wearing what looks like a red and gold suit of armor.

“Huh,” Bucky says. “Guess if you’re going to throw a costume party then it’d be weird if you were the only one not in costume.”

“The real question,” Logan says, “is whether he threw the party because he’d already made the thing or if he decided on the party and then came up with it. I’m betting the first one. Stark seems like the kind of guy who’d have a fake superhero suit in his closet and throw parties as an excuse to wear it.”

“Be nice,” Steve warns.

Logan rolls his eyes and turns to Bucky. “Was he this much a killjoy in Russia too or is it the captaincy that makes him forget how to have fun?”

“Russia was awesome,” Bucky says. “He didn’t speak the language well enough to say no to anything.”

“I learned,” Steve says. “You get a look in your eye when you’re trying to get me to do something you know I’ll hate.”

“He’s a baby about roller coasters,” Bucky says. He shrugs, aiming for innocent and missing it by a mile. “I thought it was a fear he’d grow out of.”

“Bullshit,” Steve says. 

“He was traumatized by the Cyclone as a child,” Bucky explains to Logan. 

“Because Bucky dragged me on it over and over until I puked.”

“I thought you were having fun,” Bucky says.

“The words ‘if we don’t stop I’m going to throw up’ left my mouth at least once.”

“How old were you when this happened?” Logan asks, looking between them, a smile on his face.

“Seven?” Steve asks.

“Maybe eight,” Bucky says.

Logan laughs. “So it started early then.”

“Our friendship?” Steve asks.

“Sure,” Logan says. “Let’s go with that.”

~*~

They play a round of cornhole against Coulson and one of their assistant coaches and then they somehow get roped into an apple bobbing contest that Bruce cleans up at. 

“How’d you do that?” Steve asks, staring at the pile of apples next to Bruce’s bucket.

Steve managed to slosh water all down his front, but he wasn’t able to bite into even a single apple.

“Maybe it’s my superpower,” Bruce says.

Steve turns to Bucky’s bucket. “How’d you do so well?”

“I put mine in your bucket when you weren’t paying attention,” Bucky says. 

Steve feels no guilt grabbing a handful of Bucky’s hair and dunking his head in the bucket. Bruce is quick to leap back, and Steve’s pretty sure there are people pulling out cameras, but he doesn’t care.

“You’re a cheater,” Steve says. 

“And you’re a punk,” Bucky says, before dumping his bucket of water over Steve’s head.

The water is chilly, and it drips down Steve’s face and through his costume, and he looks up a Bucky, a challenge on his face. 

“Oh no,” Bucky says.

“Oh yes,” Steve counters. “I’m a punk, remember?”

Bucky takes off running which is just silly, because Steve’s faster and as soon as Bucky breaks into a more open area, Steve tackles him to the grass, hugging him until they’re equally wet. 

“I hate you,” Bucky says.

“No you don’t.” 

If they were in their apartment, Steve would lean in the last few inches and kiss him. Since they’re in Tony Stark’s backyard with who only knows how many cameras are on them, Steve rolls to his feet and then offers Bucky a hand up. They’re both wet now, and Steve’s pretty sure he’s got grass in his hair, but he can’t be bothered enough to care.

“Too bad everyone isn’t in white t-shirts,” Clint says, shaking his head as Steve and Bucky get standing again.

Clint’s brought Natasha and Sam with him, but Sam’s the only one who keeps a careful distance from them, like he’s afraid he’s going to get water dumped on him next. 

“I dunno,” Natasha says, “All the spandex isn’t so bad.”

She very obviously checks out Sam’s ass, and Sam yelps and jumps to cover himself.

“What’re you doing?” Sam asks. “There’s a no looking rule.”

Natasha rolls her eyes. “The rule is no looking in the locker room. We’re not in locker room right now. And you don’t have anything to hide. You look good in spandex.”

“Alright,” Steve says, stepping in, because Sam looks like he’s about to combust on the spot. “Play nice.”

Natasha’s lips curve up into a smirk, and she says something in Russian that has Bucky laughing. Steve’s Russian doesn’t go beyond hockey terms and some very basic words, but he’s got a good idea of what she’s said. He’s just glad for Sam’s sake she didn’t say it in English. He might’ve swooned. 

“Wait,” Clint says. “If the no looking rule only applies to the locker room -”

“Do it at your own risk,” Natasha says, and Clint quickly drops his eyes to the ground.

“I need a towel,” Bucky says. “And another drink.”

Natasha links her arm through his. “I can help with the second. And after a few shots you probably won’t care about the first.”

“You’re not worried about that?” Clint asks, as Bucky and Natasha melt back into the party.

“Them drinking?” Steve asks. He laughs. “One, they’re responsible. Two, after what I saw in Russia, I’m not sure there’s enough alcohol at this party get them drunk. Natasha is  _ terrifying _ . She drank Ovechkin under the table during the lockout.”

“Really?” Clint asks, impressed.

Sam’s still staring after Natasha, hearts in his eyes. 

Steve nudges him. “You might want to try for some subtlety.”

“That’s rich coming from you,” Sam says.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Steve says. He runs a hand through his damp hair and sighs. “Wet spandex is not very comfortable.”

“You trying to get out of the party early?” Clint asks. “I don’t blame you. Most of the good food is gone, and ballrooms aren’t really my scene.”

“Not enough beer spilled on the floor?” Sam asks.

Clint flips him off.

This is his team, Steve thinks with a fond smile. He pulls out his phone. “Selfie?”

~*~

Steve has completely wrecked his diet plan with pumpkin shaped Rice Krispie treats by the time he and Bucky finally leave the party, sharing a cab with a couple of the guys that leave near them.

“Natasha going to get home okay?” Steve asks as they cram into the backseat.

Bucky fixes him with a look. “Have you ever known Natasha not to be okay?”

Good point, Steve thinks.

“Good point,” Steve says. He drops his head to Bucky’s shoulder. “Wake me up when we get home.”

“I don’t know how you convince people  _ you’re _ the responsible one,” Bucky says.

“Please stop,” Peter says from the other side of Bucky. “I’m not drunk enough to listen to this.”

“You’re underage,” Steve says. “You shouldn’t be any degree of drunk.”

“Of course we’re not,” Bobby says. 

They’re obviously lying, and Steve should scold them or at least warn them about being careful, but he’s tired, and lectures can wait for another time. 

“You have your apartment keys?” Bucky asks. 

“Yes,” Peter sighs. 

“And your cell phones?” Steve asks.

“Why did we get in the cab with them?” Bobby hisses, probably not as quiet as he means to, because both Steve and Bucky can hear him. 

Steve elects to ignore that comment. “And Hank?”

“He’s with T’Challa,” Bucky answers. “We’ve got the two we were responsible for.”

“Do you seriously take turns babysitting us?” Peter asks.

“Yes,” Steve says. “Rookies left to their own devices are rookies that get into trouble. It’s the second rule of hockey. Well, maybe the third.”

“Did you get into a lot of trouble as a rookie?” Peter asks.

Bucky laughs. “Stevie’s probably the reason that rule exists.”

“Stevie?” Bobby echoes.

“Alright,” Steve says. “That’s enough story time.”

“We haven’t even started the stories,” Bucky says. “The rookies deserve to know about the time -”

Steve claps his hand over Bucky’s mouth, muffling whatever embarrassing thing Bucky was about to share.

“That’s quite enough of that,” Steve says. 

They manage to drop Peter and Bobby off at their apartment building without any major mishaps and then it’s just a short drive to where Steve and Bucky live, and Steve takes the stairs by three, Bucky following him at a more sedate pace.

“Where did this burst of energy come from?” Bucky asks.

“I cannot wait to be out of this damn thing,” Steve says, peeling his costume off.

He lost his shield pretty early on in the night, and the costume was mostly comfortable until he got soaked, and then skintight became skintight and damp, and he’s very happy to finally be out of it. 

“Well,” Bucky says, leaning against their front door and openly staring. “This is the best part of the night.”

Steve flushes but it doesn’t stop him from flinging his pants across the room. “Best part of your night haven’t even started yet.”

“Oh?” Bucky asks. 

Steve, naked as the day he was born, heads back to their bedroom, and Bucky’s quick to follow him.


	8. Chapter 8

The morning after the Halloween party, Steve has four texts and a voicemail from Pepper all amounting ‘don’t lose your shit over this’ and accompanied by a link to a Deadspin article on the perks of having a woman on the team. 

The entire article is bullshit and full of pictures of Natasha from last night’s party in her skin tight Black Widow catsuit, and a bit of Googling shows that Deadspin’s not the only site running an article like that. Madden has one too, but his has the bonus of pictures not just from the party but from throughout the whole season. 

The message is clear: sometimes Natasha wears clothes that highlight her body, and apparently her entire worth is tied into her curves.

Steve interprets Pepper’s message as ‘don’t go on any public rants’ so he does the next best thing.

He calls Clint.

“I need your help,” Steve says as soon as Clint picks up the phone.

“If you’re in prison ask Sam to bail you out,” Clint says, voice thick with sleep.

Steve checks the time. It’s definitely on the early side given there was a party last night and afternoon practice today, but Clint can just take a nap later.

“It’s about Natasha.”

“What happened?” Clint demands, sounding much more awake.

“I’m sending you the link,” Steve says.

He forwards the Deadspin article, the Madden article, and one more, and listens as Clint reads through them and makes outraged noises.

“What do you want me to do?” Clint asks when he’s done, something sharp edging his voice.

“I don’t know,” Steve says. “But Pepper says I’m not allowed to ‘lose my shit over this’ so…”

“You’re letting me do it. I’ll brainstorm a bit and come up with something. I’m not going to give you a heads up or anything so you’ve got plausible deniability.”

Steve’s 100% sure that Pepper will know he had something to do with it, plausible deniability or not, but he appreciates Clint’s attempts to shield him. “Anything I can do to help, let me know. Natasha’s part of our team, and I want  _ everyone _ to know that we protect our team.”

“Damn right we do,” Clint says. “I’ll make sure to blast the message loud and clear.”

This is why Steve went to Clint on this. They’ve been teammates for years now, and Clint doesn’t have an A, and he’ll probably never wear one, but that doesn’t make him any less of a leader or any less dedicated a teammate. He’s the guy who know hows to lighten the mood in the locker room with a couple jokes, the guy who knows how to get the team fired up with a timely goal, and he’s the guy you can always,  _ always _ trust to have your back.

“Thank you,” Steve says.

~*~

Steve’s called into practice early which means Clint must’ve worked fast. He drops Bucky off in the gym, because he wants to do some weird goalie stretching thing before practice and then goes up to Stark’s office.

Stark is in the chair behind his desk, feet propped up on what’s probably an important stack of papers, but when Steve comes in, Pepper switches her glare from Stark to him. 

“What part of ‘let me handle this’ did you not understand?” Pepper asks.

Steve does his best to look innocent and unassuming. “You told me to remain calm and not do anything rash. I didn’t do anything.”

Pepper’s gaze hardens. “So you didn’t put Clint up to  _ this _ ?”

She hands her tablet over, and the new Deadspin headline reads  _ The Hawkeye Initiative _ and what follows is Clint imitating - and exaggerating - every pose they had Natasha in in the original article. Natasha leaning against a support beam? Clint’s leaning with his hip cocked. Natasha reaching for an appetizer? Clint’s doing the same thing but when he bends over he makes sure to pop his butt out. It’s a series of side-by-sides, Clint in way more sexualized positions than Natasha was.

_ The message is clear _ , the article reads at the end,  _ Clint Barton is saying any picture you post of my teammate, you have to have one of me as well doing the same thing or you’re not being a hockey blog you’re being ‘a collective of misogynistic dickheads’. Yes, that last bit was in Clint Barton’s own words. _

_ The real question is, how long before Clint Barton’s forced to walk this statement back?  _

“Hmm,” Steve says, handing the tablet back. He fights to keep the smile off his face, fights the urge to call Clint and congratulate him, because in order to have done this, Clint had to have gotten back into his costume and posed. Steve wants to know who took the pictures. Sam maybe? Wade? He’ll have to ask at practice.

“That’s all you have to say?” Pepper asks. “Is ‘hmm’?”

“I guess I also want to know the answer to Deadspin’s question,” Steve asks. “How long until he’s forced with walk it back?”

Pepper fiddles with her iPad before handing it back. 

#thehawkeyeinitiative is trending on Twitter, and it’s full of Steve’s teammates recreating poses that Natasha’s been captured in - either by fans at games, the camera crews at events, or even NHL official promotions. 

Looks like his team’s been busy.

“I had nothing to do with this,” Steve says.

“Which shows a lack of team unity,” Stark says, dropping his feet to the floor. “A captain should be spearheading a movement like this, don’t you think?”

“I  _ think _ ,” Pepper says, her voice barely under control, “that I should be allowed to do my job.” She turns to Steve. “Did you really think we’d let something like that go? We had a plan to deal with it.”

From what Steve knows of their new PR manager, he doesn't think she’d let it slide. But, “Natasha’s team,” he says. “And we’ve gotten used to closing ranks and protecting our own.”

“ _ I’m  _ team,” Pepper tells him. 

“Oh,” Steve says.

“Yeah,  _ oh _ .” Pepper takes a deep breath. “Tell Clint it was a good idea, and we’ll work with you guys on it moving forward.”

This is not the reaming out Steve had been expecting. It leaves him a little off balance. “Thank you,” he says.

Pepper sighs and waves him out of the office.

~*~

There’s a small backlash following the launch of the Hawkeye Initiative, but it’s mostly a bunch of articles that pop up accusing Clint of being unable to share the spotlight with his teammate. There’s an uptick in those articles when Clint and Natasha start being booked together for ad campaigns like having a male teammate with Natasha in ads will shield them from accusations of sexism.

“They asked me if it was emasculating to be sitting down,” Clint says, shaking his head after this latest photoshoot.

Bucky and Sam were already at Steve’s apartment, but he promised beer and Call of Duty if Clint and Natasha wanted to swing by after their photoshoot.

“Seriously?” Sam asks.

“Seriously.” Clint pops the top off his beer. “It was one of those I’m sitting in a chair, she’s standing next to me shots. Apparently the fact that she was taller than me was supposed to be a kill shot to my ego.”

“What’d you say to them?” Bucky asks, because Clint isn’t shy to spout off when he doesn’t agree with someone. It’s led to his Twitter being suspended multiple times over the course of his hockey career.

“I said I was glad to give my feet a break.”

Steve laughs. “Well, I for one can’t imagine buying an energy drink where the guy’s sitting down in the shot. It must mean he’s weak.”

“He said that too,” Natasha says, a smile tugging at her lips. “Said he’d be happy to use this as a before shot and then do an after shot, after he chugged the drink and had the energy to stand up. They didn’t appreciate that suggestion so much.”

“Just like Bauer didn’t appreciate my idea for a new stick commercial,” Clint says.

“I don’t want to know,” Sam tells them. 

Clint’s smirk tells them all they need to know - it was probably way too inappropriate for television.

“I’m just saying,” Clint says, “If they want Natasha flirtatiously handling a stick then I should be able to lovingly stroke it.”

“I’m pretty sure he used the phrase  _ getting good wood _ ,” Natasha says.

Steve laughs and raises his beer. “To good teammates.”

“Sap,” Bucky says, but he obligingly clinks Steve’s beer and the others follow suit.

~*~

November is when the season begins to get serious. 

Everyone’s shaken the summer and the preseason out of their systems, and rosters are finalized and teams begin to click, and the Avengers are no exception. Natasha, Clint, and Bruce are one of the top lines in the entire league, and Thor, Loki, and Peter have evened out into a strong second line. More importantly, the brothers haven’t had a big blow up since Boston. 

What Steve’s most surprised by, though, is their checking line. Logan’s always been a shutdown guy, but Steve wasn’t sure how that would work with Bobby’s youth or Wade’s unpredictability. Turns out, it works really well. Wade has enough strength and enough ‘who the hell knows what he’s going to do’ that most people don’t want to take their chances.

And then Bobby - Bobby is a scrappy kid, and he’s young, but he’s one of those guys that seems older than his years on the ice. He’s the center, but Logan is the one who centers them, who leads them and keeps them focused.

“He’s too cool,” Clint says about Bobby. “Too chill if you will. It’s uncanny.”

“You’re just jealous,” Sam says. 

Steve has the core over at his apartment again - Sam, Clint, Natasha, Bucky, and Logan - and that reminds him, he’s going to have to throw another team get together at some point. The team falls into groups - the young guys, the old guys, the new guys, the ‘we’ve been here forever and are never leaving’ guys - and it’s Steve’s job to make sure those groups don’t turn into cliques. 

They did something for Canadian Thanksgiving back in October and they did Halloween, and they’ve got plans for American Thanksgiving, but they should do something in between.

Maybe team bowling. That’s always good for a few laughs.

And chirping.

Clint’s a hell of a bowler, and he has no qualms about rubbing it in anyone’s faces. 

“Jealous?” Clint asks. “Of what?”

“His self-control?” Natasha offers.

Clint laughs. “Self-control is overrated.”

To prove his point, he snatches the last two cookies off the plate. 

“I like him,” Logan says, eyeing Clint’s cookies like he’s contemplating his chances of successfully stealing one. 

“That’s because he plays like he’s been playing in the league for five years already,” Steve says.

“I don’t like kids who don’t know what they’re doing,” Logan says. “I don’t want to be a part of any babysitting line.”

“That why you didn’t sign with Edmonton?” Sam asks. “I heard they made you a hell of an offer.”

“Nothing is worth playing in Edmonton,” Logan says. “Too many kids with not enough clue.”

“Maybe they just needed someone like you to show them the way,” Steve says. “Think about all those poor former number one draft picks who could’ve used your guidance and support.”

Steve’s able to hold a straight face for five seconds which is four seconds longer than he thought he would before he dissolves into laughter. 

“You’re a fucking menace,” Logan tells him.

“No, but imagine this,” Clint says. “Logan mentoring Connor McDavid.”

Sam falls off his chair he laughs so hard. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Logan says. “But if I had then you can bet your asses I would’ve pummeled Manning and Del Zotto for knocking him into the boards.”

“It wasn’t on purpose,” Steve reminds him.

“Uh huh,” Bucky says. “And since we’re in the world of the hypothetical anyways let’s think about what would happen if someone tripped up Peter or gave him an extra push into the boards and he got hurt.”

Steve’s hands clench into fists before he even realizes he’s doing it.

“Yep,” Bucky says, sounding smug. “That’s what I thought.”

“No one fucks with our rookies,” Steve says. 

~*~

They go on an East Coast road trip - 4-2 against New Jersey, 7-1 against Carolina, and they struggle but pull out a 3-2 OT win against Florida before they play Tampa Bay.

“They’re a hot team right now,” Coulson tells them in the locker room before the game. “But so are we. Go out there, play  _ our _ game, and good things will happen.”

The Avengers like to play a high possession game, because they’ve got the size to keep the other teams off the puck, and because if the other team doesn’t have the puck then they can’t put it in the back of your net. 

They’re not built to play well against the Lightning’s speed, but the Lightning aren’t built to play well against the Avengers either, and it quickly becomes a frustrating game for both sides. Bobby will chip the puck in, and Logan will go to work, pinning one of the Summers brothers against the boards while Wade keeps the puck locked up. Or Peter will carry the puck in and then work with Thor and Loki to get a cycle going that has the Lightning scrambling to get the puck out of their own zone.

It’s a good system until the Lightning do manage to get the puck out of their zone or until one of the Avengers takes a shot on net and Johnny Storm’s able to scoop up the rebound and take off on a breakaway. 

Bucky’s the one who keeps them in the game, going 1 on 1 against Johnny Storm and coming up big, going 2 on 1 against the Summers brothers and keeping the puck out of the net. He stops shot after shot, and midway through the third, he gives up a rebound right in front of the goal that Steve’s able to scoop up and outlet to Peter.

And then it’s their turn to be on a breakaway, and Steve lets himself hope that this will be what they need to break the 0-0 tie, but Peter didn’t get a big head start, and the Lightning are closing in on him.

Loki’s tapping his stick on the ice and shouting, warning Peter that there’s someone coming up behind him, and Peter makes a beautiful no-look backwards pass towards the sound of Loki’s voice, and Loki catches the puck and whips it past Bishop. 

Steve throws his hands up, about to celebrate when he realizes that Peter’s down in the corner. 

Steve missed what happened, but Peter’s on the ground, and he’s not getting back up. And, Thor at least, saw what happened, because he’s by Peter’s side in an instant, yanking Cain Marko off him, and then they’re both shedding their gloves and they start  _ whaling _ on each other.

The crowd is on their feet cheering Marko on, and Steve glances up at the Jumbotron to see what happened. Peter makes his pass and Marko was right on his heels and runs him into the boards. Peter twisted, managing to avoid going head first, but it meant going shoulder first, and if Thor wasn’t already fighting Marko, Steve would be.

But since Steve’s unoccupied, he skates over to the referee, the one guy in stripes that isn’t hovering near the fight and says, calms as he can manage, “You’re throwing him out for that, right?”

Sitwell looks over at Steve and says, “We both know that’s not going to happen.”

They show the hit again, slow motion this time. Everything looks worse in slow motion.

“He hit an unprotected player from behind,” Steve says. “And you can’t tell me he didn’t go into that hit not meaning to hurt Peter.”

“He’ll get a 5-minute major for it,” Sitwell says, “but throwing him out is excessive.”

“Not if player safety is a priority for the NHL,” Steve argues.

Sitwell fixes him with a flat look. “Don’t push it, Rogers.”

The linesmen get in to break Thor and Marko up, and the crowd roars its disapproval over not letting the two of them finish their fight. Thor and Marko must agree because, even with blood on both their faces and knuckles, they break free of the linesmen and start pummeling each other again.

“Rogers, get your team under control before someone gets hurt,” Sitwell tells him.

“Someone’s already gotten hurt,” Steve says, but he skates over to help break up the fight. 

Well, he’s not there to break the fight up so much as he’s there to make sure it doesn’t escalate. Steve’s had some pretty dumb ideas in his life (just ask Bucky) but getting between Thor and Marko is something he has no desire to do. He likes his nose unbroken, thank you very much.

Eventually, Marko gets Thor on the ground, but Thor delivers a thunderous right hook as he goes down so Steve’s not sure which one of them really wins the fight. He does know they’re both being sent to cool off with 10 minute misconducts which Steve would argue except they’re pretty justified.

And he has a power play to prepare for.

Peter’s helped to his feet as Thor and Marko are escorted off the ice, and Steve’s glad Peter can get off the ice under his own power, but he looks too pale to hope for a minor injury.

“We’ll score one for you,” Steve promises as Peter reaches the bench. 

“I’m going to fucking end Summers,” Logan says. “I don’t even care which one.”

“Logan,” Steve warns.

Logan snarls. “That son of bitch targeted Peter. If he thinks I don’t have the balls to go after their darlings then he’s a fucking idiot.”

“Thor already did that,” Steve says, and he forces his voice to stay even, forces himself to stay level even though he’d like nothing more than to go and challenge the entire Lightning bench to a fight. “We’re keeping our heads on our shoulders, and we’re taking advantage of the major.”

Logan starts to say something else, but Steve cuts him off with a glare.

“Peter’s hurt,” Steve says, “and I’m just as pissed about it as you are. But losing our heads will mean he got hurt for nothing. So we’re going to pull ourselves together, and we’re going to score a goal or two for Peter.”

“And I’m going to knock some heads together,” Logan says.

“Sit down and cool off, Howlett,” Coulson says. “I want Romanova, Barton, Drake, Rogers, and Wilson on the first power play.”

“Uh,” Wade says.

“Sam Wilson,” Coulson says.

Wade nods like he was expecting that.

“But get ready,” Coulson says, “Because you’re part of unit two, and we’ve got five minutes to make them regret what they did to Parker.”

~*~

They do score two goals during the major - one from Clint and the second from Wade, but Peter’s still not back on the bench, and Logan isn’t the only guy who’s noticed and is pissed about it. 

He’s the most obvious though, skating with an edge to him, finishing all his checks, getting an extra poke in at Bishop after the whistle, talking shit to any player in a blue jersey near him. And the Lightning are giving it right back. They’re down 0-3 late in the third after a stupid move by one of their guys, and they’ve got their own frustration building. 

It all comes to a head with two minutes left in the period. Logan’s been mouthing off to anyone who’ll listen, but no one’s risen to the bait.

Until Storm.

Johnny Storm’s got a bit of reputation for being a hothead, and Steve can see the situation unfolding after Bishop gets his glove down on a puck and Sitwell blows the play dead. Logan takes an extra jab, and Storm gets up in his face and then Logan gets his stick up, and the next thing Steve knows everyone’s pairing off and there’s a tug on his jersey.

He looks down to see Gabriel Summers at his elbow, and Steve wants to throw a punch but, “You really want to do this?” Steve asks.

Gabriel looks up and edges back as he realizes who he managed to grab.

“Yeah,” Steve says, and gives him a nudge towards Bobby. 

Steve wants to hit someone, but now isn’t the time, and Gabriel Summers definitely isn’t the person to start a fight with. Steve doesn’t fight very often but he either fights in his weight class or above it. Or, in the very rare occasion he does fight someone below his weight class it’s because they deserve it. 

Gabriel Summers grabbing the wrong guy in a scrum isn’t a reason to knock him around. 

No one drops any gloves, but Logan and Storm have to get separated by the linesmen, and Steve’s pulled aside by Sitwell.

“Keep it under control,” Sitwell says. “Only two minutes left.”

“They went after one of our young guys,” Steve says. “Tempers are high.”

“Keep them in check,” Sitwell warns. “I’ll end this game with everyone in the box if I have to.”

“I’ll talk to them,” Steve says. “You going to have a chat with them or are we supposed to be the only responsible ones?”

Steve gets another  _ you’re pushing it _ look, and he skates over to his bench, before he runs his mouth. He’s gotten better at not pushing the officials too far, but this is the kind of game that makes him want to abandon everything he’s taught and just go off.

He doesn’t even care that they’ve won by the time they’re filing off the ice (he’ll care later but not now) because Peter’s still not on the bench, and he isn’t in the locker room when they get down there.

“Upper body injury,” Coulson says when he joins them in the locker room.

“No shit,” Bucky mutters from Steve’s side.

Steve would nudge him or scold him or even give him a fucking look, but Steve’s pretty pissed about the news too. And he’s pissed that the team doesn’t get the full disclosure. 

But Steve’s the captain so once Coulson’s said his piece, Steve stands up, half in his game uniform, half in his under armor.

“Our job isn’t done yet,” Steve says. 

“The fun part is,” someone in Clint’s corner says. 

Steve acknowledges that with a nod. “But if we want to do that fun part where we get to go out and play the sport we love then we’ve got to do the other parts as well. The focus is on the game and on moving forward. I don’t want any soundbites about Tampa,” he looks pointedly as Logan, “The focus is on us. And once this is over, we’re going to hold the plane until we can find the biggest, most obnoxious bouquet of flowers someone will sell us at this time of night in Florida.”

That at least gets a positive reaction, and Steve gets stripped down to his under armor and even manages to wipe off his face and neck with a damp towel before the media pour in. 

They split pretty evenly on who heads towards Logan and who heads towards Thor, but Logan, with a steady look at Steve, stands up with a towel and stomps off to the showers. Steve’s not going to get on his case about that. Pepper might but Steve knows not to push Logan when he doesn’t want to be pushed. 

A couple of Logan’s reporters go to join Thor’s scrum but the rest reluctantly head over to Steve.

“I see how it is,” Steve says, forcing a smile on his face, forcing himself to look loose and relaxed. “I’m your second choice.”

“You’ll always be my number one,” Bucky says, clapping Steve on the shoulder before he also leaves to take a shower.

“And yet you still abandon me!” Steve calls after him.

“One of us needs to smell good,” Bucky says, flashing a smile before he ducks into a different part of the locker room. The part that’s off limits to the media on the account of them; well, being naked and showering. Sometimes Steve wishes he could flee to that sanctuary, but he can’t.

His jersey’s in a pile waiting to be thrown in with the rest of the laundry, but he can still feel the impression of his C on his chest.

“So,” Everhart says. “That game.”

Steve laughs even though he doesn’t feel like it, because it makes the reporters relax, makes their microphones seem less like weapons being jammed in his face. “They’re a fast team, but I think we learned some important ways to negate that speed.”

Everhart isn’t the only one who looks supremely unimpressed with him, but she is the only one to follow up. “We’re not going to talk about Parker?”

“Upper body injury,” Steve says. “The rest of it I’m sure you saw on the, in my opinion, unnecessary number of replays they showed.”

“We could see from the hit it was going to be an upper body injury. You have anything more than that?”

“What can I say?” Steve asks with his ‘aw shucks’ grin. “You guys were quick to get in here tonight. We didn’t have a chance to talk to Dr. Grey.”

“We could give you the time now,” Everhart suggests.

“And miss a second of your company?” Steve asks.

Skye rolls her eyes. “You gonna talk about Odinson?”

“Thor?” Steve asks. He looks over their heads at the crowd Thor’s got gathered around him. “I think he’s got the handle on talking about himself.”

“So you’re going to give us nothing,” Everhart says. 

“It was a tight game through the first two periods,” Steve says. “We knew it was going to be like that, and we were being patient, playing our game, waiting for our opportunity. I guess they thought the game was going to go a little differently, because they were definitely frustrated in the third.”

“You think that’s what Marko’s hit was?” Skye asks. “Frustration?”

“I think Marko’s hit was out of line,” Steve says and his little group of reporters press closer. “I think it’s exactly the kind of thing we’re trying to get out of our league. I can’t tell you what was going through his head, but I can tell you that it never looks good when a guy with a reputation like his targets a young, skilled player on another team.”

Cain Marko is built like a tank, and he’s not put on the ice for his finesse. He’s put on as  bruiser, as a guy whose job it is to rough up the other team a bit. Only, sometimes he goes beyond just a bit. 

The one and only time Cain Marko has been mic’d up for a game he was caught saying, “I’m the Juggernaut, bitch,” before dropping his gloves and getting a cheap shot in before the other guy knew what was going on. 

Steve’s got guys on his team that’ll start a fight if they think that’s what the team needs to get going - hell,  _ Steve’s _ sometimes that guy, but where Marko crosses the line is that he’ll purposefully hurt a player on the other team to change the tide. 

Steve’s not a big fan of him.

But he also knows better than to start a soundbite fight.

“Enough on the injury,” Steve says, “I don’t like to dwell on bad things. Let’s talk about Peter’s pass that led to Loki’s goal.”


	9. Chapter 9

Peter’s got a separated shoulder that’ll keep him out for hopefully just a few weeks but could be months depending on how severe it is and how his recovery goes. He’s allowed to watch practice, and he’s doing his rehab when they’re in the weight room, but it’s always hard to see a young guy hurt.

It’s always hard to see  _ anyone _ hurt.

Steve can’t imagine how hard it must be the one that’s hurt. 

He’s been lucky enough in his career never to have a serious injury, but he figures it must be like being in a lockout except you don’t get to play and everyone else around you does. Luckily, he’s found a team to play with during each lockout he’s been a part of so he still doesn’t have a great frame of reference. There’s a reason he’s not the one comforting Peter through this. 

“We’re going to be fine,” Bucky says over dinner. “One person doesn’t make or break a team.”

There’s also a reason why Bucky’s not involved in the comforting. 

They’re mostly leaving that to Sam and T’Challa with the occasional humor cameo by Wade. 

“Our lines are thrown off,” Steve says, “and it affects team chemistry.”

“He’ll be back,” Bucky says. “You know the kids - they’re resilient. He’ll be back in time for playoffs.”

Steve glares at him until Bucky rolls his eyes and knocks on the table. 

“I still don’t understand you and your superstitions,” Bucky tells him. 

“You don’t have to understand them,” Steve says, “You just have to respect them.”

Bucky rolls his eyes again, but Steve doesn’t call him on it. They don’t always agree on everything, and sometimes Steve wants to argue for the sake of arguing and sometimes he wants to fight Bucky on something, but he also knows how to let something go.

“You’re really upset about Peter being out,” Bucky says. “He’s just a kid. Even if he’s out for the rest of the season, he’s got a long career ahead of him. He’s going to be fine.”

“It still sucks,” Steve says. “And I’m not saying our season is over, because Peter’s going to be out, but we were building to something. Didn’t you feel it? We were gaining momentum, and now I feel like the wind’s been knocked out of our sails.”

“We’ll get it back,” Bucky promises. “And we don’t even know we’ve lost it yet.”

Steve glares.

Bucky sighs and knocks on the table again.

~*~

They win the first game without Peter and then they drop the next three. 

“Stop looking at me like that,” Bucky says. “It’s not my fault.”

“I know it’s not your fault,” Steve says. “You knocked on the table.”

Bucky gives him a look.

“And you’ve been strong in net,” Steve adds. “We aren’t losing because of you. You -”

Bucky holds up a hand. “I don’t need a pep talk. I know I’m playing well. I could be better, but I’m not crying myself to sleep every night.”

“Good,” Steve says. Obviously Bucky isn’t crying himself to sleep every night - Steve sleeps next to him so he’d  _ know _ but he’s glad Bucky isn’t beating himself up over their recent losses. If anyone should be looking in the mirror, it’s Steve. 

Steve’s team is unraveling, and they’re looking to him to keep them together and so far he hasn’t. Even the lines that haven’t been changed by Peter being out of the line-up have seemingly forgotten how to play. Wade can’t make an accurate pass to save his life, and Natasha and Clint are completely out of sync. They were offside more in last game than Steve thinks they’ve been in the rest of the season combined.

The shitshow against Toronto is completely Steve’s fault. 

He’s been winding himself tighter and tighter, because they can’t seem to find the back of the net, and it’s bled over into the rest of the team, but the d-core especially. They’re playing desperate, like they’re down by one with half a period left to go, and they’re pinching when they shouldn’t, taking risks that they they’re going to get burned on.

And against Toronto?

They get burned.

Steve leaves the blue line, pinches in, because if they can just keep the puck in the offensive zone then they can get their cycle going and -

Nylander passes the puck up to Matthews, and the Leaf’s number one draft pick is off to the races, and he slips the puck past Bucky with a move that’ll haunt Steve’s nightmares tonight. 

And then the Avengers are playing catch-up and instead of trusting the system, instead of playing  _ their  _ game, they start pinching more, and the tighter they get, the more they open up the ice for the Leafs, and the game ends in a 2-7 rout that has Steve breaking his stick as they come off the ice.

“Woah there, Cap,” Sam says as Steve storms into the locker room.

Breaking his stick was a mistake, because now he wants to break something else. He wants to tear apart the locker room - throw clothes and pads, and whatever else he can get his hands on around the room. He wants to tear his nameplate off his stall and toss it in the trash, because that’s where he fucking belongs after a game like that. 

Steve whirls around, ready to shout - to try and vent some of his anger that way, but all of his rage dries up when he sees the team keeping their distance, the way the younger guys look afraid of him. Sometimes Steve forgets about the growth spurt he hit in high school, that he’s well over six feet tall these days, and that he’s packed muscle onto his frame.

He isn’t an angry little kid, he’s a grown man.

Steve takes a deep breath. “Sorry,” he says.

Logan’s already at his stall stripping down, because he’s seen Steve get fired up before, seen him completely lose his temper.

The younger guys are quick to drop their eyes and retreat to their own stalls.

Sam maintains eye contact, but he’s definitely wary, like he’s waiting for Steve to snap again.

“You want first shower?” Sam offers. “Cool off a bit before you have to talk to the reporters?”

“And let Madden write about how I hid from my responsibility?” Steve shakes his head. “Thanks for the offer, but I’m your captain, and it’s high time I start fucking acting like it.”

Bucky frowns but he doesn’t say anything as he passes Steve to get to his stall. It’s for the best. If Bucky started in on how Steve gets on his own case too much or tried to  _ defend _ Steve’s shitty performance tonight then Steve probably would’ve lost it. Would’ve started yelling, maybe even thrown a punch. 

But Bucky knows him well enough to know that so he’s giving Steve space. 

It means Steve’s probably going to get an earful later. Or, maybe not. Bucky did make the rule about no game talk at home. That probably extends to game-related wrestling matches.

Steve sighs and runs his hand through sweaty hair.

He’s down to his under armor by the time the reporters are in, and they immediately crowd around him, like sharks scenting blood. 

“I want to start off with an apology,” Steve says, and somehow everyone presses even closer to him.

Madden wrinkles his nose, because sixty minutes of sweat has soaked into Steve’s clothes, and Steve’s mostly immune to the scent, but the reporters aren’t. 

“I want to apologize to our fans,” Steve says, “as well as our management and our coaching staff. But most importantly, I want to apologize to my team. A captain is supposed to keep the team centered, supposed to be the example everyone else looks up to, and lately I haven’t been that. I hope no one’s trying to model their play after mine in our recent games, and I’m going to be better. Our team, our fans, our  _ city _ deserves better than what I’ve been bringing. They deserve my best.”

Steve bows his head. 

After a moment, he lifts it again, facing the dozens of recording devices thrust near his face. “Who wants to ask the first question?”

~*~

Steve follows Bucky out to their car, and he pats his pockets, looking for his keys and he frowns when he doesn’t feel them. He double checks his pockets and he’s unzipping his bag when Bucky jingles the keys.

“Looking for these?” Bucky asks.

“How’d you get those?” Steve asks, holding his hand out.

Bucky snatches them back. “You always keep them in the left pocket of your bag. It was easy to get them.”

“Alright,” Steve says, “You’ve had your fun.” He wiggles his fingers. “Keys, please.”

“Nope,” Bucky says. “I’m driving this time.”

“My game wasn’t that bad,” Steve says. “I’ve calmed down. I’m good to drive.”

“I’m not doubting that,” Bucky says. “But you’ve been hogging the keys since we’ve the season started. It’s my turn to drive.”

“I drove with you in Russia and lost a couple years off my life,” Steve says. 

Bucky climbs into the driver’s seat. “Get in or get a cab.”

Steve sighs but he throws his bag in the back and then gets into the passenger seat. He buckles his seatbelt, checks to make sure his airbag is on, and then grabs onto the handle in preparation of Bucky’s reckless driving. 

“I’m going to start calling you Grandpa Rogers,” Bucky mutters, shaking his head even as he throws the car into reverse and peels out of their parking spot.

“No you won’t,” Steve says. “Because I will never have sex with you again.”

“I’ll try,” Bucky says, “but no promises. Especially if you keep wearing those pleated khakis. There’s nothing more old man than those.”

“You wear cardigans,” Steve says.

“I  _ rock _ cardigans you mean.” 

Bucky takes a much sharper left out of the parking garage than Steve’s entirely comfortable with.

“Quit being such a baby,” Bucky says.

“First I’m a grandpa and now I’m a baby. You should get your insults straight.”

Bucky flips the radio on and that ends their conversation until Bucky pulls up in front of a package store.

“Um,” Steve says.

“Stay here,” Bucky says. “I’ll be right back.”

Steve scowls but he stays. He would’ve changed the radio to something country just to fuck with Bucky, but Bucky took the keys with him like he thought that’s what Steve was going to do. Or maybe he thought Steve was going to slip into the driver’s seat. Which, admittedly, Steve also would’ve done. But, and this is important, he wouldn’t have abandoned Bucky here for being a dick.

Bucky comes back with a six pack of Blue Moon.

“Neither of us drink that,” Steve says when Bucky drops it on his lap.

“It’s not for you,” Bucky says.

Five minutes later, Steve frowns. “This isn’t the way to our apartment.”

“That’s ‘cause that’s not where we’re going.”

Steve contemplates him for a moment. “You’d tell me if you were bringing me somewhere to kill me, right?”

Bucky gives him a flat look and then turns the music up louder.

Whatever. Steve’s not up for playing 20 Questions anyways. What he wants is to be at home so he can sulk about the game. In the locker room, he has to be strong, has to be a leader. In his apartment, he can be as pissed as he wants. He can throw a tantrum, he can beat himself up. In the locker room he has to be restrained, has say everything with a fucking smile on his face like he’s happy he just played his worst game of the season. 

But they’re not going home.

They’re going -

To Sam’s apartment?

“Seriously?” Steve asks when Bucky swings into a parking spot. “Sam’s?”

“Seriously,” Bucky says. “Bring the beer and come on.”

“Should I be calling a cab?” Steve asks, even as he follows Bucky into the building. 

“You should keep doing what you’re told,” Bucky says.

Steve sticks his tongue out at Bucky’s back. It makes him feel a little better.

“...Um, hi?” Sam says when they get to his apartment. 

“You didn’t tell him we were coming?” Steve asks. He raises his eyes heavenward. “Of course you didn’t. You didn’t even tell  _ me _ we were coming here.”

Bucky plucks the beer out of Steve’s hands and passes it over. “Thanks for letting us use your apartment.”

“What?” Sam asks, looking between them. 

“Don’t look at me,” Steve says. “I have no idea what the fuck is going on.”

“Losses don’t come back to our apartment,” Bucky reminds him. “And you seemed like you wanted to talk about the game.”

“Ah,” Sam says. “That’s how you do it.”

“Do what?” Steve asks.

“You wanna hash out the game or what?” Bucky asks, stealing Steve’s attention back. “Cause if you don’t then we can go home and sack out. But I’ve known you long enough to know when you’re pissy.”

“Of course I’m pissy,” Steve says, some of the night’s frustration beginning to bubble up again. “I was shit tonight. I’ve got a C on my chest, because I’m supposed to be a role model, supposed to lead our team, and I guess I did lead our team tonight, but I led it right down the toilet.”

“It wasn’t that bad,” Sam says.

“We shouldn’t’ve pinched as much as we did. Do you know how many times we hung Bucky out to dry?” Steve looks over at his best friend. “How are you not angry about this?”

“Because I know you’re putting too much blame on yourself,” Bucky says. “It’s one of your more frustrating habits.”

“Rich coming from you,” Steve says. He drags a hand through his hair. Talking the game out is probably better than his usual strategy - binge eat kale chips and then wake up guilty the next day for ruining his diet, but he doesn’t want to sit here and listen to Bucky try and tell him he’s wrong. Steve’s not digging for compliments. He knows he screwed up.

“Fine,” Bucky says. “You were awful tonight.”

“I  _ know _ ,” Steve says even as Sam makes a choked sound in the background. 

“And what we also both know,” Bucky says, “is that you’re better than the game you played tonight. I’m not going to get on your case unless tonight becomes routine for you. And you’re too good for that to happen. Go back to playing good defense and leave the goal scoring to the forwards. Help me defend the net until they get their heads out of their asses long enough to score a few goals.”

“Hey,” Steve begins, because doesn’t want to dump on their other teammates.

Bucky holds up his hands. “Sorry. I’ll pass that onto Natasha directly. You can’t play every position. You’re only one guy, and hockey isn’t a sport designed to let one person dominate in lieu of having a balanced team. You do your part and trust our team to start doing theirs.”

It sounds so reasonable when Bucky puts it that way.

Steve doesn’t really want reasonable - he wants to throw things and yell and get the ickiness out of his system - but he can’t work up the energy.

“I hate it when you’re right,” Steve sighs.

“You love it when I’m right,” Bucky counters. He slings an arm around Steve’s shoulders and pulls him in for a hug. “You ready to go home or you need to talk some more shit about your game? You know, if any other guy talked about you the way you’re talking about yourself, I’d be throwing punches.”

Steve smiles, warmed even though he knows it’s stupid. “That your way of saying you’re gonna fight me when we get home?”

“Maybe a little wrestling,” Bucky says, grinning.

“Get out,” Sam says, sounding strangled. “Before you do something unspeakable in my kitchen.”

“Bucky cheats when we wrestle,” Steve says.

“Do not.”

“Do too!”

“Your enormous thighs are cheating,” Bucky says. “I’ve got to use whatever advantages I can get.”

“He tickles,” Steve tells Sam. “And he  _ pinches _ .”

Sam puts his beer down so he can cover his ears. “What’s that?” he shouts. “I can’t hear you.”

“Weirdo,” Steve says. He turns to Bucky. “You ready to go?”

“Only if you are.”

“Alright,” Steve says. He holds out a hand. “I’m driving home.”

“Killjoy,” Bucky mutters, but he hands the keys over. 

~*~

As soon as they’re in their apartment, Steve pulls Bucky in for a kiss.

“Thank you,” he says when they pull back.

“Someone’s gotta look out for you,” Bucky says. “Now come to bed.”

~*~

It’s well known that Steve gets to the rink early. He does it in part to set a good example, part because he’s paranoid of being late, and part because it makes him easy to find if someone wants to have a quick chat before practice.

Usually that someone is Coach Coulson but today it’s Peter, lurking outside the locker room.

The sheer relief when he sees Steve means he’s having some kind of crisis or, “You locked out?” Steve asks, hopeful. 

Peter shakes his head.

Bucky claps Steve on the back and says, quiet enough so Peter can’t hear, “Good luck,” and then wanders off to stretch or commune with his net or do whatever it is that goalies do with their free time.

Steve smiles at Peter and says, “You got something on your mind?”

“Yeah.” Peter looks around like he’s expecting someone to come around the corner or bust out of the locker room.

“Let’s go to the equipment room,” Steve says. “I could use some more stick tape.”

“Okay.”

They head back to the equipment room which is thankfully empty right now. This is where they can get basically anything they need to play hockey and also where they can cut down their sticks. Well, where their equipment manager can cut down their sticks. The players aren’t supposed to do it, because someone thought hockey players and sharp objects were a bad combination.

“So,” Steve says once it becomes clear that Peter’s clammed up again. “What’s troubling you?”

“Uh,” Peter fiddles with the strap on his sling. He looks around, still nervous and then leans in. “It’s Wade.”

“Wilson?” Steve confirms even though he doesn’t know any other Wades.

Peter nods.

Steve had been expecting Peter to be bummed out about his shoulder and maybe having girlfriend trouble - long distance can be hard, and she’s in  _ England _ . Steve hadn’t been expecting team trouble.

“What’s happened?” Steve asks.

He’s heard rumors about Wade - how he can take a joke too far, how his moods can shift abruptly, that his girlfriend and him are into ‘weird shit’ and that means he’s secretly gay - but Steve doesn’t put stock in rumors. He knows how stories can grow a life of their own in a locker room, how one guy with a grudge spreading likes can turn into perceived truth.

Wade’s been a great addition to their locker room, but if he’s giving the rookies a hard time…

The line between pranking and hazing can get thin at times, and if Peter’s bringing something up to Steve then something pretty serious must’ve happened. 

Peter scuffs his foot against the floor and picks at the velcro on his sling and doesn’t look at Steve when he mumbles, “He’sfeedingme.”

“He’s what?” Steve asks.

Peter’s whole face turns red. “He’s feeding me.”

“Like making you dinner?” Steve asks. He doesn’t understand how this is a bad thing. 

“Like bringing take out and  _ feeding _ it to me,” Peter says. “He thinks I can’t use silverware.”

Oh, Steve thinks.

_ Oh. _

“At least he’s not going Momma Bird on you?” Steve says. Personally, Steve’s glad this isn’t going to be a case of having to get after a guy for hazing. Of course, this is a whole new different kind of problem.

Peter shudders. “Look, I understand he’s trying to be nice, but I can use a fork and a spoon. The knife is a little tricky, but I can manage.”

“Have you tried telling Wade this?” Steve asks.

“I tried showing him,” Peter says. “And then he tied me to a chair  _ for my own good _ .”

“Ah,” Steve says. He can see why that would freak someone out. “I”ll talk to him.”

“Thanks,” Peter says. “I don’t want to appear ungrateful, but it’s a little much.”

~*~

“You should catch a ride home with Natasha,” Steve tells Bucky as they’re changing back into street clothes. “I’m going to be here for a bit.”

“Oh?” Bucky asks, interested.

“Captain stuff,” Steve says. “You wouldn’t believe it if I told you.”

“Which you won’t tell me,” Bucky says, “Because principles or something.”

Steve gives Bucky a shove towards the door. “Get outta here.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Bucky says. “Don’t stay out too late.”

“Pick me up something when you and Natasha order food.”

“We’re not,” Bucky begins but then he nods, “Yeah, we’re going to order out. Alright.”

“If you get Chinese -”

“I know.”

“If you get Indian -”

“ _ I know _ .”

“Alright, alright,” Steve says. “Go. I’ll see you later.”

Bucky wanders off, catching Natasha on his way out, and Steve goes back to packing his things up, frowning when he sees Sam staring at him.

“What?” Steve asks.

“You two are something else,” Sam says, shaking his head. “I’m going to grab T’Challa and Clint and see if they want to grab dinner somewhere. You want me to grab you something too?” Sam’s lips turn up. “A cookie maybe? A molten lava cake? Or does Bucky provide for all of your, uh, self-indulgent needs?”

“You’re hilarious,” Steve says. “Go, have your dinner, enjoy yourself.”

Steve mingles and says his goodbyes, lingering until it’s just him and Wade left. 

Wade doesn’t seem to notice that the locker room’s cleared out, too busy humming to himself while he changes. He slings his back over his shoulder and looks around, finally realizing that it’s just him and Steve.

“Running a little behind today, Cap?” Wade asks.

“Nope,” Steve says, “Just doing my check-ins.”

“Saved the best for last?” Wade asks.

“Sure,” Steve says.

Wade stops puttering around. “Am I in trouble?”

“Not in trouble,” Steve says. “I just want to have a chat.”

“Definitely in trouble,” Wade says. “Should I sit down?”

Steve’s not sure anyway to have this conversation without it being weird because, well, the whole situation is pretty weird, but there’s no need to dance around things.

“I talked to Peter.”

“Yeah?” Wade asks. “He’s doing pretty good. Get’s a little down sometimes, but if I couldn’t play hockey I’d be like punching holes in walls and shit so he’s pretty mature for his age. Or I’m pretty immature. Probably a mixture of the two.”

“Yeah,” Steve says. He has to remind himself to focus - Wade has a tendency to get on tangents and drag other people along with him. “But I didn’t want to talk about Peter’s injury. Well, sort of. He says you’ve been trying to help him out?”

“Oh. Yeah.” Wade nods, looking pleased with himself. “I thought to myself - self, how much would it suck be to hurt and on your own all the time and totally unable to open a pickle jar - and I decided it would suck major balls. Like big, heavy, hairy -”

“I get the point,” Steve says. “Um, look, I’ll be the first to say thank you for keeping him company and keeping him from getting too low, but, uh, you might be going a bit overboard.”

Wade’s face falls. “Really?”

Steve’s going to have to be even blunter than he thought he’d be.

“You tied him to a chair,” Steve says.

“Ah,” Wade says. “But in my defense, I didn’t leave him unsupervised. Except for maybe five minutes. Well, 10. really. I had to take a shit, and Peter keeps comics in the bathroom. I got distracted.”

Steve really wishes he’d foisted this off on Sam. That’s what As are for, right, doing the stuff you don’t want to?

“You can’t tie him to chairs,” Steve says. “It looks bad.”

“I didn’t think about that,” Wade says.

“And he probably doesn’t need to be fed. He’s still got one arm.”

“So...I shouldn’t offer to help him with other stuff?”

“Other stuff?” Steve asks. He really hopes Wade isn’t referencing what he thinks he’s referencing. 

“You know,” Wade makes a jerk off moment.

Steve actually closes his eyes. This - this is not -

“Just kidding,” Wade says, laughing and punching Steve’s shoulder. “Dude, there are  _ lines _ . I won’t cross them.”

“You tied him to a chair, “Steve repeats because it bears repeating.

“That was for his own good. Look, I’m sure it especially sucks that it’s his right arm that’s busted up, but it’s important to be ambidextrous.”

“Alright,” Steve says. “So, to summarize this lovely conversation - thumbs up for hanging out with the rookies, thumbs down for trying them to chairs.”

“Does he hate me?” Wade asks.

“I don’t think so. Just, pull back the enthusiasm a little bit, and you’ll be good. Maybe bring someone with you for the next few visits. Bobby, maybe. Or Hank.”

“You just want me to take the kids out so you can Barnes can have a night off.”

Steve can’t quite deny it. “Take them to Dave & Busters. You’ll have fun”

Wade shrugs. “Can do. Anything to keep Cap and his goalie happy.”

Steve decides not to poke that statement too hard. He’s afraid of what Wade’s cooking up in his head now.


	10. Chapter 10

Steve doesn’t hear about anymore chair issues or anything like that so he trusts everything’s going well with Wade and Peter.

November rolls into December which rolls into January and the next thing Steve knows he’s seeing Natasha and Clint off for the All-Star Game.

“Don’t let him drink too much at the draft,” Steve tells Natasha the night before when she and Clint are over for one last dinner before they part ways for a few days.

“Come on,” Clint pouts, “You know that’s the only way to get through that bullshit.”

“Seguin’s going to be there,” Steve continues as if Clint hadn’t spoken. “Keep them apart unless you want to listen to ‘bro this’ and ‘bro that’ all weekend long.”

“T. Segs is awesome,” Clint says.

Natasha looks like she has regrets.

“I see why you decided your knee was bothering you,” Bucky says. “Didn’t want to get stuck babysitting Clint.”

“Hey!” Clint protests.

Steve’s not going to the All-Star Game for a couple reasons. One, he doesn't want to go. Two, Natasha deserves it, and three, he is feeling a little banged up and could use the rest. Because he backed out due to injury he can’t play in their first game back, but he talked to Coulson and Stark, and they agreed it was worth it, and then Stark pulled a few strings to make sure it was Natasha who was picked to replace him.

“We’re going to have fun,” Clint promises Natasha. “The All-Star weekend  is great. You can meet all my bros and just chill with people you usually don’t get to because of schedules and stuff. And most guys are cool once you’re not on the ice with them. I mean, Johnny Storm’s always kind of a douche, and we’ll want to steer clear of Schmidt, but for the most part it’s good.”

“Ugh,” Steve says. “Schmidt.”

“The real reason Steve’s not going,” Clint says. “They hate each other. Not that I’m Schmidt’s biggest fan.”

“They call him the Red Skull,” Steve says. “Because when he fights guys he doesn’t stop until they’re bleeding.”

“Sounds like a real charmer,” Natasha says.

“He ever do that to you?” Buck asks, voice too level, too even, the way it gets when he’s about to lose it.

“Buck,” Steve starts, because he doesn’t need Bucky deciding to take out a vendetta against this guy.

“I’m going to Google it as soon as we get home,” Bucky says. “You might as well warn me what I'm gonna see.”

Steve sighs and then pushes his hair off his forehead so Bucky can see the thin scar right at his hairline. “Schmidt caught me with a high stick, hard enough that it broke skin. He got pissed when I told the refs they’d missed a call and then said some other things I’m not going to repeat and then we fought. Had blood coming down my forehead and my nose by the end of it. It looked worse than it was.”

“Uh huh,” Bucky says, in the way that means he doesn’t believe Steve for one second.

“Accidents happens,” Natasha says, offhand. “There could be one this weekend.”

“Tempting,” Steve says, “but not necessary.”

“He’s also publicly said that Steve is an inferior version of himself,” Clint adds, because Clint’s a troublemaker who enjoys stirring shit up. Or maybe he just wants to watch Natasha get in a fight at the All-Star Game. 

“He’s an idiot,” Bucky says.

Steve’s going to have to be extra vigilant the next time they play LA, make sure Bucky doesn’t get himself into trouble. Bucky’s normally a pretty chill goalie, getting into the zone as soon as he’s in his crease, but he gets feisty sometimes - tipping helmets, hacking at guys’ skates. Steve doesn’t need Bucky causing trouble with Schmidt.

Steve gets into enough of it on his own.

“You’re going to have fun this weekend,” Steve says. “Your first All-Star game is always something you’ll remember. And if you get picked last then you get a car. Which is cool.”

“You think I’m going to get picked last?” Natasha asks.

“Honestly, I have no idea,” Steve says. “If I was a captain I’d pick you first. But Jagr’s one captain because they think this is his last year, and they managed to drag him back to the All-Star game, and Jamie Benn’s the other. Neither of them have been dicks to you in the ice, right?”

“They’re fine,” Natasha says. “Most everyone’s been fine.”

“They should pick you first,” Steve says. “But I’m biased.”

“I’d pick you first too,” Clint says. 

“I wouldn’t,” Bucky says.

Clint rolls his eyes. “Duh. Everyone knows you’d pick Steve first. Would you pick Natasha second? Because that’s as good as first in your book.”

Steve ducks his head so no one can see the stupid smile that spreads across his face. From Natasha’s snort and Clint’s groan, they probably saw it anyways. Oh well. He can’t help that he’s Bucky’s favorite. Or that being Bucky’s favorite makes him happy. 

He should probably work on his reaction, though, if he doesn’t want everyone knowing that he and Bucky are together. 

“We should head out,” Bucky says. “You two have an early flight tomorrow.”

Clint groans. “I hate getting up early.”

“Like you aren’t going to sleep the whole time,” Natasha says. “I’m warning you now - you drool on me I’m punching you.”

Clint rubs his shoulder, probably where he’s been punched many times before. “I don’t mean to.”

“You sleep with your mouth open and your eyes open,” she says. “It’s unnatural. And gross.”

“I can wear a sleep mask?” Clint offers.

Steve starts edging towards the door. Whenever they get into their little spats he likes to escape. He wonders if this is what he and Bucky sounds like from the outside. It makes him wonder if there’s something happening between them. He knows Sam’s got a crush on Natasha but that he’s taking the denial route. 

Clint isn’t really a denial kind of guy.

Probably just really close friends.

Which is what Steve and Bucky are. Except sometimes they’re  _ really  _ close.

And now Steve’s blushing.

“Send us pictures,” Steve says. “Rule of the All-Star Weekend - you have to take a picture with every person there who shares your number.”

“No,” Natasha says. “I’ll take a selfie with Sasha, probably a bunch, but I’m not putting my face anywhere near Drew Doughty’s.”

“Fair,” Steve says. “Tell Ovechkin I say hi.”

“Tell him yourself,” Natasha says. “I know you two’ve exchanged numbers.”

“Yeah but then he takes that as an invitation to send me his entire emoji library.”

Bucky loops his arm around Steve’s. “Going now. Punch Schmidt for me.”

“My pleasure,” Natasha says, and Bucky drags Steve away as he splutters about responsibility and good decision making.

~*~

Natasha (thankfully) doesn’t actually get in a fight with Schmidt over the weekend or, if she does, it doesn’t make the news, but she does kick his ass in the speed competition. 

Clint comes home as the most accurate shooter for what seems like the fifth year in a row so, of course, the team has to celebrate by pieing him as soon as he gets to the locker room.

“Mmm,” he says, tongue darting out to taste the whipped cream. “Glad this isn’t shaving cream.”

Some of the guys had wanted to do a shaving cream pie, but Steve knew Clint’s first instinct would be to lick it off, and he’d rather Clint eat whipped cream than shaving cream.

“Your face is a little dirty there,” Logan says, and he looks over at T’Challa who nods solemnly and says, “You can’t practice like that. We’ll help you.”

And then they’re both moving, and they scoop Clint up before he can slip away and they toss him into one of the showers, the water already running for exactly this purpose.

Steve laughs as Clint (predictably) snags T’Challa’s ankle and drags him into the shower with him. Logan knew Clint well enough to get out of arm’s reach.

“Boys Gone Wild?” Natasha asks as Clint and T’Challa start up and impromptu wrestling match in the shower.”

“What’d you say?” Clint asks. “You want us to take off our shirts?”

“Alright, alright,” Steve laughs. “Nobody needs to see that.” 

“Someone didn’t have a relaxing break,” Clint says as he emerges from the shower, dripping wet but clean of any and all whipped cream. “Didn’t Bucky wait on your every whim and need?”

Steve laughs. “Yeah, right.”

“I made you dinner,” Bucky says.

“You called out for Chinese,” Steve says. “That’s not exactly Top Chef right there.”

“Did he tie you to a chair and hand feed you?” Wade asks. “Because that’s true love right there.”

“Uh...no,” Bucky says. He looks to Steve for help.

“Guess he doesn’t love me,” Steve sighs, and Bucky immediately drags him into a headlock.

“Pretty sure I loved you all weekend long,” Bucky says, quiet enough that only Steve can hear.

“Pretty sure you only lasted a couple minutes,” Steve shoots back, also under his breath.

Bucky gives Steve his most unimpressed look.

Steve dissolves into giggles.

“Look what you started,” Logan tells Wade. “It’s our first fucking day back. Stop making heart eyes at each other.”

“Didn’t you get all that out of your system over the break?” Sam asks.

“All what?” Steve asks, wide eyed and innocent.

Everyone immediately finds themselves busy getting their gear on.

“You’re an asshole,” Bucky says before releasing Steve with a shove towards his locker. 

Steve just grins, because, yeah, he’s a bit of an asshole.

~*~

They come off the All-Star Break energized. 

Not long into February they get Peter back, just in time to start their extended playoff push. It takes a few games to get a rhythm going again, to get the whole team synced up, but going into March they’re almost guaranteed a spot in the playoffs.

Steve’s been a part of teams that were uncertain going into the end of the season, and he’s been on the ice for that last ditch attempt to clinch, and he’s been on it for the loss that means they won’t even have a chance to try for the Cup.

Being on a team that has a good chance of making it is both a relief and somehow even more pressure. Because now there are expectations - their own, their fans’, their management’s - and expectations mean possibly letting people down.

No.

Steve’s not going to start thinking that way.

One of the problems with being a professional athlete is walking the fine line of overconfidence and self-doubt. He can’t believe in himself or his team too much without jinxing them, but he doesn’t want to sell them short either. 

Bucky tells him he thinks too much whenever Steve brings up these concerns to him.

Steve thinks Bucky doesn’t think enough. 

Which then leads to Bucky sticking a GoPro on his head and narrating his entire thought process for a practice.

Bucky thinks  _ a lot _ .

About angles and rebounds and shooters and passers. He has everyone’s stats in his head - their favorite shots, how often they pass, what their go-to move is - he has to be thinking about what the player with the puck is going, what he’s going to do and then also what all the other players are doing and what they’re going to do.

All Steve has to do is shove people out of the crease and take a puck off the foot or shin so it doesn’t get to Bucky.

Well, being a defenseman is a little more complicated than that. But being a goalie is  _ super _ complicated.

Steve should make Reed Richards a fruit basket or something.  

Anyways, what Steve’s trying to get at is that it doesn’t matter how good a team looks on paper or even on the ice, the lead-up to the playoffs is always nerve wracking. A million things can go wrong, and hundreds of things have to line up perfectly in order to go right.

“You’re really working yourself up over this,” Bucky says, one afternoon when they’re at their apartment and watching hockey updates, because Steve needs to be tuned into everything that’s happening around the league. 

“The playoffs are a big deal,” Steve says.

Montreal’s been on a skid, but they can easily climb back up into the standings. Washington’s on a roll, and they’re probably going to clinch the President’s Trophy any day now. Steve tries not to get too caught up in the wildcard standings - best to just secure their spot in the most secure way, but he knows they won’t catch Washington.

They’re sitting in third place in the Metro right now, between Pittsburgh in second, and Philadelphia who keeps phasing in and out of a wildcard spot but could challenge for the Avengers’ third place slot if they get a bit of good luck. Or if the Avengers get into another spot of bad luck.

Bucky clicks the TV off. “There are too many variables you can’t control. No sense in tying yourself in knots imagining every possible bad outcome.”

“I imagine the good ones too sometimes,” Steve feels obligated to point out. 

“There’s only one thing we can control,” Bucky says, “and that’s how we go out there and play every night.”

“You can never get on my case about captain speeches again,” Steve says. He wonders if it’s worth trying to get the remote back and then decides on no. He stretches out across the couch instead, dropping his feet in Bucky’s lap.

Bucky shoves them off. “I’m not a captain. Which means I’m just imparting common sense on you.”

“You don’t get more motivated by some games than others?” Steve asks.

“No.”

Steve wants to call bullshit but...goalies. They’re weird.

“How?” Steve asks again.

“Because you can’t. Every game has to be equally important or you won’t always play your best. If you decide to bring your A game for Washington, let’s say then what does that say about the rest of your games? You’ve been bringing your B game? It’s stupid.”

“Huh,” Steve says. He’s never thought about it like that.

“So let’s take it a step further,” Bucky says. “The playoff crunch where everyone loses their fucking minds? If you’d played like you wanted to be in the playoffs back in November or even January then you wouldn’t be in jeopardy by the time this part of the season rolls around. If you only get amped up for games that matter then you’re saying other games don’t matter.”

“It’s a good point,” Steve says.

“No shit,” Bucky says. “The real question is - does it change your opinion?”

“Am I going to stop checking the standings every night before we go to bed and while we eat breakfast?” Steve asks.

“And the 8 million other times you check.”

Steve shrugs. “Probably not.”

Bucky sighs.

“It’s not that you’re not right,” Steve says, “because you are.”

“I know that, thanks.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “I’ve just been thinking like this for so long I don’t think I can just stop.”

“You weren’t like this in Russia,” Bucky says. “I don’t think you even realized we were in playoffs until we started spraying champagne around the locker room.”

“Russia was different,” Steve says. He pulls his legs up and against his body.

“Oh?” Bucky asks.

“If we won then we won,” Steve says, “but that wasn’t why I was there. I was there for  _ you _ , to play hockey with  _ you _ . The Gagarin Cup was a bonus.” Steve can see Bucky’s eyebrows lifting and he hurries to add, “Not that I think that Cup is less than our Cup. I mean, winning any league is a big deal. But,” Steve shrugs, “I really want to win  _ this _ one for you. So you’ll stay.”

If anything, Bucky looks even more incredulous. 

Steve has the feeling he’s really stuck his foot in his mouth this time. Words have never been his strongest suit. He’s much better with actions. Which is why he wants to win the Stanley Cup. He wants to show Bucky that it was worth coming here, that this is a team worth playing for - not just this year but every year. 

“You’re a fucking idiot,” Bucky says, managing to sound  _ fond _ of all things.

Before Steve can say anything, Bucky’s pushing Steve’s knees apart and crawling between them. 

“I’m here for  _ you _ ,” Bucky says. “That’s why I came, that’s why I’m staying.”

Bucky’s face is only a couple inches from Steve’s, and he’s leaning over Steve’s body, probably close enough to hear the wild way Steve’s heart is beating.

“Yeah?” Steve asks.

“You can’t get rid of me,” Bucky promises. “You and me, pal. ‘Til the end of the line.”

“I like that sound of that,” Steve says, a goofy smile spreading across his face.

“That’s because I’m a fucking genius,” Bucky says before leaning in those last few inches to kiss him.

~*~

Steve does his best to adopt Bucky’s game philosophy - each is equally important, each equally matters - and as Steve begins to relax so does the rest of the team. It’s like when you grip your stick too tight and can’t seem to score - you keep gripping it tighter hoping to solve the problem but you’re just making it worse.

Steve hadn’t even realized how tense he was until he’s not anymore, until he’s loose, until he’s  _ happy _ facing the press scrum after their game against Detroit. It was a 3-2, hard fought win that’s put another nail in Detroit’s coffin.

It’s still not impossible for them to make the playoffs, but it’s looking less and less likely.

Steve doesn’t having anything against Detroit, but they’ve got quite the playoff streak going, and Steve’s competitive enough that he wouldn’t mind being a part of spoiling that streak. Not that he’s going to voice that thought out loud. 

Their team doesn’t need any bad press going into the playoffs. And they don’t need to giving teams anything to tack up on their wall and play for. Steve still remember a time in Juniors when Schmidt (who played for a different team) talked to the paper about Dernier - about how French players are worth shit and he was overhyped - and Steve’s team - the Commandos - printed out about fifty copies of that quote and put them up all over the locker room.

And they got Dernier 60 goals making him the number one goal scorer in their league that season.

When Dernier was interviewed about it, he made sure to personally thank Schmidt for motivating him to have an explosive season. 

Now that Steve thinks about it, this is probably where his problems with Schmidt began. 

Anyways, Steve has enough media training (and self-control) not to start anything this close to the playoffs so when Skye asks him about the change in atmosphere he says, “It’s all thanks to Bucky.”

“Oh?” 

The reporters crowd closer.

Bucky flips Steve off behind their backs.

“Yeah,” Steve says, fighting and failing to hide his smile. “We had a chat about philosophy. He’s a smart guy. I think sometimes because goalies are so quiet you don’t realize how much they’ve got spinning away in their brains.”

A couple of the reporters look like they want to go interview  _ Bucky _ now. 

“I hate you,” Bucky cheerfully tells Steve in Russian.

Steve blows him a kiss back.

“Joint interview?” Skye hazards, a hopeful expression on her face.

“Ha,” Bucky says.

“It’s not like you’ve got anything better to do,” Steve says. “I’m your ride back to the apartment.”

Bucky looks like he could name five better things to do or maybe a full laundry list of things he doesn’t like about Steve right now, but he just sighs and shuffles over, the reporters making space for him so he can stand next to Steve.

“What do you want to know?” he asks.

Skye’s eyes light up. “Anything?”

“Related to hockey,” Steve says, because the last thing they need is to end up with a lifestyle piece or whatever. 

“Ignore him,” Bucky says. “Ask away. We can start with his terrible taste in music if you want.”

The younger reporters and the bloggers look interested, but Christine Everhart is frowning, and Steve isn’t thrilled to agree with her on anything, but he agrees with her here. 

“We were going to talk about philosophy,” Steve says.

“Boring.” Bucky, recognizing an ally in Skye, flashes her one of his more charming smiles. “You want dirt on Captain America here? We’ve been sharing an apartment this season. I’ve got all the dirt.”

“You’re the worst,” Steve says, giving him a little shove.

“First you want me here, now you don’t.” Bucky sighs. “See what I have to put up with?”

Skye covers her mouth, but she can’t hide her giggles, and Madden huffs and goes find someone else to get a soundbite from. Steve doesn’t blame him. He’s pretty sure they’re  done with the hockey talk for the night.

“You want to know what  _ I  _ have to put up with?” Steve asks. “This guy -” he jerks his thumb towards Bucky - “makes me get up a half hour early to make sure there’re three cups of coffee waiting for him when he drags his...butt out of bed.”

“Hold up” Bucky says, but Steve, grinning, just talks over him.

“ _ Three _ cups. He’s a terror in the mornings. At least the cute hair makes up for the grumpiness.”

Bucky glares. “It’s not cute. It’s tousled.”

“Uh huh,” Steve says.

“And quit slandering my name. You set the coffee to automatic.  _ You’re  _ the one who’s alarm blares forever, because you want to try and sleep through it or something.”

“He doesn’t even set an alarm,” Steve says, “Which is why I have to let mine keep going. Only way to drag him out of bed.”

“You could bring my coffee to me,” Bucky suggests. “I bet that would wake me right up.”

Steve laughs. “Keep dreaming.”

“Who makes breakfast in the mornings?” Everhart asks, looking like it pains her, but she probably figures a story is better than no story.

“Me,” Steve says. “Or else we’d never make it to practice.”

“I do dinner,” Bucky says. “Which means he gets the easy stuff.”

“Oh really?” Steve asks.

“Yeah,” Bucky says, grinning, clearly enjoying the show they’re putting on. “Breakfast you just whip up a few eggs, pop some toast in the toaster. Easy stuff.”

“And calling for takeout is so hard?” 

“Slander,” Bucky says. “You’re going to make all these lovely people think I don’t treat you right.”

“Um, can I ask about laundry?” Skye asks, and Steve claps a hand over Bucky’s mouth before he can say anything about the time Steve accidentally turned all their socks pink.


	11. Chapter 11

Their first playoff series is against the Rangers - they’re opening their playoffs the same way they opened their season, and that’s the kind of symmetry Steve can get behind. No one’s running with that as their headline though. Instead, they’re going with the (overused)  _ Battle of New York  _ or  _ Battle of the Goaltenders _ .

Steve thinks they’re equally stupid.

If you’ve made it this far it’s because you’ve got a damn good goalie. Steve, obviously, has the best goaltender in the league on his team, but every series could easily be labeled  _ Battle of the Goaltenders _ . Besides, all the stats in the world, all the comparables fly out the window when the postseason starts.

Everything, everyone, is a blank slate and Steve loves it.

It’s like a brand new season - endless possibilities stretching out before him.

There’s only one outcome he wants, though, and he hopes to lead his team to it.

The postseason is when practice shifts from implementing new plays, from introducing new systems to fine tuning what they do have. Whatever got you to the playoffs is what you’re bringing into the playoffs with you so you want to make sure it’s the best it can be.

It means that practices get shorter, and they get more focused. 

It’s a toss-up whether they’re more serious or not.

They watch a fair amount of footage on Lundqvist, but Coulson reminds them to play their game first. There’s nothing wrong with knowing the other team’s tendencies - where Lundqvist is strongest and where he’s weakest, where their top scorers like to shoot - but they can’t get so caught up in what the other team does that they forget what they’re supposed to be doing.

The priority is their own team. As soon as you start trying to counter what the other team is doing then you get sucked into their game instead of playing their own.

“Our game has gotten us this far,” Coulson tells them in the locker room before their first game against the Rangers. “You need to trust that it’ll take us all the way.”

They file out onto Madison Square Garden’s ice to an avalanche of boos from the Rangers’ dedicated fanbase.

During a regular season game, Steve would probably give them a wave or something equally obnoxious, but today he sticks to his routine. He skates out with his team and circles their half the rink twice before he skates over to where Bucky’s stretching near the half-boards.

He knocks his knee against Bucky’s. “You ready?” Steve asks, part of their ritual.

“Always ready,” Bucky answers. “Just like any other game.”

“Yeah,” Steve says.

He looks around at the sea of blue - there must have been some sort of fan giveaway when they came through the door, because they all match.

“You gonna help me protect my net?” Bucky asks and Steve tears his eyes away from the standing fans.

“Always,” Steve says.

They tap their helmets together, the last part of their pre-game ritual and then Steve goes to take another loop and Bucky drops into a painful looking stretch. Painful to Steve, at least. Goalies have out of this world flexibility. Bucky likes to show off by randomly doing the splits and then smirking when Steve winces. That shit looks like it hurts, okay?

Steve circles back around to the blue line, and he joins up with Sam and Natasha to take a few lazy shots on the open goal. 

He glances over at Bucky and Richards once just because he knows how much they hate seeing the puck go in their net - even during warm-ups, and the frowns on their faces make him smile. 

They cycle through their shots then do a little 3-on-2 work, and each goalie gets a chance to face some pucks and then it’s time to line up for the national anthems. 

This is the moment everything focuses for Steve. He can get through warm-ups on autopilot - after so many years of the exact same routine his body knows what to do. But as soon as the singer for the night begins the national anthem everything gets real.

He’s about to play a hockey game.

He’s about to play their first game of the Stanley Cup Playoffs.

He closes his eyes and lets the familiar words of a familiar song wash over him. 

When he opens them again, the lights in the building have been turned on as bright as they go and end note of the  _ Star Spangled Banner  _ are drowned out by a raucous crowd.

“It’s go time,” Steve says as he and Sam skate over to the bench for their final words from Coulson before the first shift of the game.

“We play a solid twenty minutes,” Coulson says, raising his voice to be heard over the crowd. “This is their ice, but we’re going to come out with our game, and we’re going to knock the air right out of this building.”

“Fucking right,” Clint says.

“Knock some air out of their lungs too,” Logan says, casting a look over his shoulder at where the Rangers are in a huddle of their own. 

There are a couple guys in blue that Steve wouldn’t mind dumping on their asses, and he’s positive he’ll get a chance before the series is out. The only thing he knows for sure, though, is that if Kreider tries to pull any of the shit on Bucky that he pulled on Price a few years back then the guy’s going to leave the ice on a stretcher.

“Play strong, play confident, and play collected,” Coulson’s saying when Steve tunes back in, just in time because now it’s Steve’s turn to talk.

“Nothing better than raining on someone else’s party.”

“Parade,” Sam says. “You rain on someone’s parade.”

“They ain’t gettin’ a parade,” Steve says and his team whoops and shouts before they break for the opening faceoff. 

Both teams start with their top lines, and usually there’s a bit of a feeling out in the first few minutes of the first game of a series, but not tonight. As soon as Bruce wins the faceoff back to Clint it’s go time, and Clint barely has enough time to get a pass off to Natasha before he’s dodging a hit from Brian Boyle.

“Coward” Boyle hisses, but Clint ignores him, choosing to catch Natasha’s return pass and fire the puck on net.

Lundqvist easily knocks it away, and he outlets it up to one of the forwards, but Steve’s in position, and he knocks Moore off the puck before he can even reach Steve’s blue line.

Steve scoops up the puck and sends it around the boards to where Sam’s waiting for it and then they’re off again.

~*~

The first hit comes in the first minute of the game, and T’Challa’s knocked flat on his back, but he gets to his feet and gets after the puck, stopping Moore from getting a clean shot on net, and Bucky catches it in his glove and looks around before deciding to hold onto it. 

Bobby ties up the faceoff, and Wade darts in to get the puck, and he slings it up to Logan who barrels through Marc Staal when he tries to stop him. 

Steve’ll watch the footage later and laugh.

For now, he smacks his stick on the ice and calls for the puck, because he’s got an open lane, and Staal is out of position and won’t be able to recover if Logan can just get Steve the damn puck. 

Logan shoves Staal to give himself some space and then kicks the puck up to Steve, and Steve pulls his stick back and lets the puck loose. He’s no Zdeno Chara, but if he’s got the time he can get a good 100mph on a shot, and Lundqvist is barely able to get his paddle on the puck to keep it out of the net.

Lundqvist didn’t have enough time to control the rebound, though, and it careens off the short boards where Wade’s able to grab it and whip it back on net.

Another rebound, another pick up by Steve’s team.

Bobby gets the puck back to Sam who passes it to Steve, and Steve waits until Moore skates over to him to pass it back to Sam.

At the front of the net, Logan and Staal are wrestling for space, and Steve doesn’t think either of them’ll come out on top, but it must be a hell of a distraction for Lundqvist. Steve makes a quick pass to Sam who sees the same thing because he whips the puck back to Steve who sends it up to Wade who roofs it up and into the top corner of the net.

Logan’s still fighting for position when the goal light comes on, and he immediately stops jousting and skates over to the nearest person - Bobby - and wraps him up in a giant bear hug.

“Way to fucking hold your ground out there,” Steve says, skating over and pounding Logan on the back a few times.

“Slick fucking passing,” Wade says.

“And a slick fucking shot,” Steve tells him. 

They get in all their hugs and helmet taps before they skate by their bench for celebratory fist bumps. 

First goal of the series goes to them.

~*~

That’s the only goal of the game which isn’t to say it wasn’t a tough game or that there weren’t dozens of close calls and almosts on each side. Just after that first goal both goalies went into lockdown mode and made some of the best saves Steve’s seen all year.

It’s not going to be an easy series; not that he thought it would be before the first game. But this game is only confirmation. Every goal is going to have to be earned ten times over, and the fight to keep the puck out of your own next is going to be brutal.

Steve can’t wait for the next game. 

~*~

The reporters find another stupid headline to run leading up to the second game.

_ The Battle of the Brothers _ .

Steve should’ve seen this coming - two of the Staals playing for the Rangers and Loki and Thor on the Avengers. 

“It’s a peculiar situation,” Ross says during the half hour block he gets during the postseason to dissect ‘the top stories of each series’. “Everyone knows the Staal brothers, and of course, Jordan is still in Carolina where Eric had been captain before he was traded to play with another one of his brothers, but it’s the Avengers where family gets; well, weird.

“There are two Wilsons on the roster - Wade who we’ve  _ all _ of heard of and Sam who is one of the most underrated defenseman in the league. But the Wilsons aren’t brothers - something anyone with eyes can see. It’s actually Thor Odinson and Loki Laufeyson who are brothers - adopted, obviously, because they don’t look related either. It will be interesting to see how these sibling dynamics play out. Everyone knows how hotheaded the Norwegians can get, and the playoffs seem like the perfect time for tension to bubble up and over between them…”

~*~

“Did you listen to Ross last night?” Sam asks, coming into the locker room in just a pair of spandex, a bag of ice strapped to his shoulder.

Steve’s got a bag of ice on his knee.

It’s just that time of the season.

“What a load of bullshit,” Wade says. “Who the fuck says you and I can’t be brothers? We can be brothers. We  _ are _ brothers. Jersey makes you family, right?”

“Jersey makes you family,” Sam repeats. “Like, Thor and Loki can be related because they’re adopted, but Wade and I couldn’t be part of an adopted family? Apparently white people don’t adopt black kids in America.”

“Hey,” Wade says, “Your mother is a very nice woman. Why would  _ you _ be adopted? I totally want her adopting me. Hey, speaking of your mother, is she coming down for the playoffs?”

“You just want some of the famous Wilson chocolate chip cookies,” Sam says.

“Uh, yeah,” Wade says. “Why be your brother if I can’t benefit in some way?”

“You’re not actually my brother,” Sam reminds him. “Aw, quit it with the pouty lip. You look ridiculous.”

They take their bickering over to their stalls, and Steve leans into his locker and lets the cold of the ice sink into his knee and ease some of the hurt from last night. 

The Rangers always play physical, and they’re not going to avoid that now that they’re in the playoffs. It’s a big part of what got them here. Steve just has to make sure his team has the right response to that physicality.

So far they do.

“You were phenomenal last night,” Steve says when Bucky wanders into the locker room, half-dressed and his hair sticking up in every direction like someone has been running their hands through it. Steve feels a small spark of jealousy that he quickly tamps down. 

“Bit of a headache,” Bucky says like he can read what Steve’s thinking, “One of the trainers helped work it out.”

“You didn’t tell me your head was bothering you,” Steve says.

“And you didn’t say anything about your knee. It’s the playoffs.”

“Yeah,” Steve says, but he frowns, because playoffs or no, he doesn’t like to see Bucky in pain. “Anyone I should teach a lesson?”

Bucky rolls his eyes. “Just a headache. No one took any runs at me. Anyone tell you you’re an overprotective son of a bitch?”

“Nope,” Steve says, “I’m just the right amount of protective, thank you very much.”

Bucky shakes his head and reaches into his bag to grab a shirt. 

~*~

The series is tied going to Brooklyn.

The Rangers won Game 2 2-1 in overtime, another tight game that’s just led to tensions between the teams ratcheting up another notch. 

There’ve started to be scrums after the whistle, players coming together to hurl insults back and forth and maybe even rough each other up a bit if they can get away with it before the linesmen swoop in to break it up. 

Peter catches a high stick in the opening minutes of the first period.

The refs don’t catch it.

The building is swept up by boos, and Steve gives over all his frustration to the fans, lets them vent it for him, because getting a retaliatory penalty won’t help his team win this game.

But there’s irritation bubbling away under his skin, irritation that’s increased when they head down for the first intermission tied 0-0. Irritation that’s doubled when he sees Peter sporting a black eye. He’s been icing it since the hit, trying to get the swelling down enough that he’ll be good to play in the second period. 

“Take your time,” Steve tells Peter on his way back to his seat. “We can hold the fort down until you’re ready to get back on the ice.”

“That’s all we can fucking do,” Logan says, kicking someone’s extra pads out of the way before he drops onto his seat. “I swear, if I hit that post one more damn time.”

“You’ve got twenty minutes before you can hit it again,” Wade says, cheerful, like he isn’t aware that Logan’s itching to hit someone, and he doesn’t care if that someone happens to be on his team. 

~*~

It’s still 0-0 going into the second intermission, and frustration is building on both sides. 

Whistles have gotten shorter, but the two teams are still coming together, and Steve’s lip is throbbing from where he caught a stick to the mouth. 

He knows they got lucky on their goal in the first game, and they managed to scrounge up an ugly goal in their second game, and so it would seem that  _ somehow _ they’ll manage to get a goal tonight, but Lundqvist is playing like a fucking brick wall.

Bucky’s playing equally good -  _ better  _ \- but something’s going to have to give. 

“They’re getting cocky on  _ our  _ ice,” Logan says. “I don’t like it. We ought to teach them a lesson.”

“We’re a skill team,” Coulson reminds them.

“My fists are fucking skilled,” Logan says.

“The Staals are on the same wavelength tonight,” Natasha says. “Always dangerous when your forwards and your defense can play seamlessly like that.”

“Then we bust up some of those seams,” Thor says.

Loki’s eyes light up, and he leans in to whisper something in Thor’s ear, and Thor nods, solemn and attentive. Everyone looks at them, waiting for them to share, but they don’t speak a word for the rest of intermission.

Steve doesn’t have a chance to catch either of them for a chat before they’re back on the ice which means he doesn’t know what they’re planning. He really hopes neither of them are going to get suspended. The playoffs requires their best players to be at their best - not in the penalty box or up in the press box. 

Thor’s line starts them off, and he gets in for the faceoff, and Loki hooks his stick around Marc Staal’s and he leans in to say something. Staal’s face twists, annoyed, and then Thor’s swiping the puck away from Eric Staal and the third period has officially started.

Steve watches Thor and Loki closely; well, as closely as he can and as far as he can tell, Loki’s plan is to annoy Marc Staal into taking a penalty. It’s not a bad plan, because Loki has a way with words - he can chirp  _ anyone _ . Steve’s pretty sure the guy could start a fight with just a few well placed phrases.

And that’s exactly what he does.

Steve has no idea what’s being said, but after a whistle, Thor and Eric Staal are up in each other’s face, and their sticks come up, and they’re definitely shouting at each other, and Loki grabs Marc’s sweater before he can jump to his brother’s defense.

Loki says something and then Marc hauls off and punches him, and that’s when bedlam breaks out. 

Thor, realizing what’s happened, throws Eric Staal to the ground (no small feat) and tries to make his way to Loki, but the three other Rangers are in the way.

“Are you fucking serious?” Logan mutters next to Steve on the bench. “ _ I  _ wanted to be a part of this.”

“I’m sure you’ll get your chance before the playoffs are done,” Steve tells him and then bites down on the first finger of his glove.

He loves being in fights - loves the adrenaline, how his world narrows down to just him and his opponent - but he hates watching them. It makes him too nervous. 

Peter, finally back on the ice, is staying out of the fray, but Thor is handling his own against three other players. Loki, clever more than he is strong, took the first punch by Marc to start off the whole brawl, but he goes with the next hit, lets it bring the two of them to the ground.

Immediately, the two linesmen are there hauling them apart. Loki’s bleeding, but he’s got a manic glint in his eye as Marc hurls obscenities at him. 

When it’s all said and done, the Staal brothers are put in the penalty box for two minutes apiece, the same as Thor and Loki.

“How come we’ve got two guys in there?” Coulson asks when Sitwell skates over to explain the penalties. “Laufeyson didn’t throw a punch.”

“He didn’t have to,” Sitwell says. “He’s still going away for instigation.”

Coulson shrugs, knowing when a battle is lost, and they get ready to play 3-on-3. 

It opens up a ton of ice, and Steve grins as he’s put out on the ice with Clint and Natasha. it’s risky, putting two forwards and just one defenseman on, but they’re going to need a bit of risk in order to win this game.

Besides, they might have risk, but they’ve also got a hell of a lot of speed. 

Clint wins the faceoff, and he knocks it back to Steve who cradles it, taking his time as he sees how the Rangers are lining up to defend them and where his teammates are going to go.

Boyle edges to cut off the passing lane, but most of his attention is on Steve which means he doesn’t see Clint slowly creeping to the left. Steve fakes a pass to Natasha then sends the puck to Clint who then passes to a streaking Natasha. She catches the puck on her forehand then goes backhand to lift the puck up and over Lundqvist’s pads.

1-0.

Steve gathers Clint and Natasha up in his arms and knocks them into the glass.

Fans crowd as close as they can, pounding on the glass so hard Steve can feel the vibrations. 

“That’s the way we fucking do it!” Steve shouts.

They circle back to their team for fist bumps and then the game turns into an all out  _ battle _ .

Steve gets hacked and slashed and at one point Boyle breaks Steve’s stick clean in two, and he drops the piece still in his hand and looks to Sitwell as if to say  _ you gonna blow that damn whistle of yours? _ But he doesn’t have the time to linger - Logan tosses him his stick so Steve can defend their net, and they get trapped in their zone, Steve with the wrong stick and Logan with no stick as the Rangers launch a full out attack. 

Steve takes a puck off the shin and another off his helmet, but the one that ricochets off his helmet also goes out of play which means he and Sam can get a much needed break, and he can give Logan back his stick. 

Even Bucky gets a short break - a couple seconds to take his mask off, and he dumps some of his water bottle on his face and hair. He shakes out his hair and then puts his mask back on and crouches in his net, ready for the faceoff.

Bucky’s going to deserve every helmet tap and every hug when this game if over. Steve’s breathing hard after the shift he had, but at least he gets to take a breather now and then. His numbers are hovering around 30 minutes a game, but Bucky’s are consistently at 60. 

“They’re trying to overload your side,” Sam says, leaning in to talk to Steve. “Hoping to distract me or one of the forwards so another guy can sneak backdoor.”

“I’ll stop them on my end, you stop them on yours,” Steve says. “Let’s see if we can get Bucky a bit of a break.”

“Do you know what would help Bucky the most?” Thor asks, joining their conversation.

“Staying out of the box?” Sam asks.

“We scored while I was in the box,” Thor reminds him. 

“What would help Buck the most?” Steve asks.

“All out attack,” Thor declares.

Steve smiles and nods, even as he promises himself to linger near the blue line, to be ready to haul ass. All out attack is good until you commit too much and the other team starts a rush that ends with the puck in the back of your net.

And that’s almost what happens the next time Thor’s line is on the ice. 

Hank jumps up on the rush, but T’Challa hangs back, and that saves what would’ve been a sure goal.

“We’re up one goal in the dwindling minutes of the third!” Coulson reminds them as the network takes advantage of the stoppage of play for a TV timeout. “We don’t need another goal. We need to protect our net. Get the puck to the red line, dump it in and then make a change. Rinse and repeat so we’ve always got fresh legs. Anyone confused?”

Steve shakes his head, sees his teammates shake their heads too. 

They pour back onto the ice, and Steve nudges Sam as they get ready for the faceoff. 

“Ready?” Steve asks.

“You best your pasty white ass I am.”

Steve laughs and then gets in position for the faceoff.

Stepan wins it away from Bruce, but he takes the puck into the corner, and Logan shoves him into the boards, knocking him off the puck and leaving it there for Steve to scoop up. Steve gets the puck up to Wade who gets to the red line before dumping the puck in and going after it so his two linemates can get a change.

Thor and Peter come on the ice and once Peter’s got control of the puck, Wade goes to finish the change. 

The end of the game is a blur of adrenaline and close calls, but Bucky’s a fucking wall even when the Rangers pull Lundqvist so they can get another guy on the attack.

The game ends 1-0, and Steve isn’t the first to get to Bucky, but he does give him the longest hug. 

~*~

Thor and Loki implement Part 2 of their plan during Game 4. 

All Thor has to do is skate too close to Eric Staal and Marc grits his teeth. Loki’ll mutter something to Marc every time they pass each other, and Steve notices the way Eric’s eyes track their movement. 

They’ve gotten in the Staal brothers’ heads, and it’s obvious. Neither Eric nor Marc are paying full attention to the game, because they’re on the lookout for an altercation that Steve doesn’t think is going to happen. 

The Staals aren’t the only ones not playing at the top of their games, and T’Challa gets the Avengers on the board in the first give minutes of the game, and they score again in the dwindling minutes of the first period.

The second period adds to Steve’s bruises, but there are no additions to the scoreboard. 

In the dwindling minutes of the third period, the Rangers score with Lundqvist pulled, but they only get the one.

The Avengers win 2-1, and they lead the series 3-1.

~*~

“We can spoil their playoffs on their own ice,” Logan says on their trip back to Madison Square Garden.

“I don’t know what’s better,” Wade says, “Winning on our ice for our fans or fucking over another team by winning on theirs.”

“I don’t care where we win as long as we get the win,” Natasha says, practical as always. 

“Our fans have already seen us win twice,” Logan says, “and they’ll get to see us win again.”

Steve glares at him before Logan huffs and knocks on Wade’s head.

“Hey!” Wade says.

Logan shrugs. “There isn’t any wood nearby.”

~*~

Someone gives the Rangers a wake-up call or maybe it’s the fact that they’re in their first elimination game, but they come out the gate with a fire under their ass.

From the opening faceoff they launch an all out assault on Bucky and his net, and Steve plays for a minute and a half straight, and he’s not good enough, gets fatigued chasing Stepan around the back of the net, and Zucarello eventually pulls a move, turns so quick that when Steve tries to follow he falls on his ass. 

Zucarello zigs around him and then flips the puck into the net, and Steve doesn’t hang his head - there are too many cameras - but in his head he lets his shoulders slump. Because that goal was on him.

Bucky fishes the puck out of his net, face unreadable as the Rangers crash into each other in front of his net, congratulating each other on their goal. 

“Next one is ours,” Steve says as he skates over to the bench, bent over, lungs protesting the extended shift he just put them through. His lungs haven’t burned like this since before the growth spurt that made hockey realistic for him instead of just a dream. 

“Next one is mine,” Logan growls. “I’ll put the fucking puck through their fucking net.”

“Calm down, Shea Weber,” Clint says. 

“Stay relaxed,” Coulson reminds them all. “Stick to our system, trust that we’ll get the results.”

~*~

They don’t score in the first period.

~*~

They don’t score in the second.

~*~

They don’t score in the third.

~*~

“I could’ve played better,” Bucky says after they’ve had their post-game talk, their post-game media, and gotten back to Brooklyn.

“You and me both,” Steve says.

They’re still in the parking garage, because they made a deal not to talk about games back in their apartment. Steve’s leaning against the driver side door, and Bucky’s next to him, staring at the ground.

“And next game we’re going to be better,” Steve says.

They screwed themselves over in the opening minutes, and they’re not going to do that again. They’ve got a whole stadium turning out to watch them, and Steve doesn’t plan on disappointing them. 

~*~

They don’t.

The first period is a tight back and forth, both team getting chances, but nothing going in. They’re tentative the way they weren’t even in the first game, neither side wanting to fully commit, because they don’t want to leave themselves open for a counter attack.

And then the second period starts, and Steve can feel something building on the bench. He has two solid shifts in a row, and Peter’s found his playoff legs, and he’s looking for the puck, looking to make something happen.

Four minutes into the period, he does.

Thor plants himself in front of the net, a massive body for Lundqvist to try and look around, and Loki makes an absolutely brilliant pass from behind the goal line - between Marc Staal’s legs - and the puck is only on Peter’s stick for a second before it’s flying over Lundqvist’s shoulder.

1-0.

Two minutes later, Hank scores off a shot from the point that has no business going in, but that doesn’t matter, because it  _ does _ go in.

2-0.

“Your turn,” Steve says, clapping Bobby on the shoulder when his line goes over the boards.

Bobby grins and Steve knows it’s only a matter of time. 

He doesn’t net himself a goal on that shift, but Kreider goes to the box for tripping, and the Avengers get their first powerplay of the game.

The first unit makes a mess of things - Steve doesn’t think they manage to possess the puck in the offensive zone for more than two seconds together, and they ice the puck which is just embarrassing. Thor wins the faceoff, and they get a partial shift change - Thor and Bobby switching out, and Natasha sends the puck his way.

Bobby carries it into the zone before passing the puck to Clint and planting himself firmly in front of the net.

McDonagh gives him a shove, and Lundqvist gives him another for good measure and then Clint’s taking a shot, and the puck deflects off Bobby’s stick and into the net.

3-0.

~*~

“They’re not going to roll over and give this game to you,” Coulson says during second intermission. “They fought too hard to get here, and they have too much respect to make this easy. Expect them to come out hard, and expect them to come out with everything they’ve got. And prepare to show that we’re better than even the best they can put together.”

The team roars their approval.

~*~

The Rangers don’t give up, and they put the pedal to the metal, and they don’t let up one second in the third period.

They net themselves a goal ten minutes in, and there’s a lull in the building as the fans are given an unwelcome reminder that the game isn’t finished yet. There’s still a lot of time left on the clock, and the Avengers haven’t won it yet.

The crowd goes eerily quiet when, with half a minute remaining, the Rangers score another goal.

3-2 and there’s still 30 seconds on the clock. 

That’s a lot of time, Steve thinks as he skates out for the faceoff.

Lundqvist stays on the bench so there are six attackers on the ice for the Rangers.

Steve doesn’t plan on letting any of them score.

Bruce ties up the faceoff, bleeding important seconds off the clock, and Steve lets Clint and Logan wade in to help keep the puck away from the guys in white. 

Steve edges back closer to his blue line to make sure that if the puck does come free then no one will have a clear shot on net.

He doesn’t dare look at any of the clocks running in the building, but he can hear the fans counting down.

14...13...12

Kreider is able to work the puck free, and passes it to Zuccarello.

11...10...9

Sam’s already skating towards Zuccarello so Steve drifts back towards the net, making sure he keeps a close eye on Kreider.

8...7...6

Logan barrels into Zuccarello, pinning him to the boards, and Sam swoops in to get the puck and fling it down the ice.

5...4...3

Sitwell blows his whistle to signal an icing.

The Rangers take their time out so they can keep their big guns on the ice.

“Keep up the good work,” Coulson tells them. “One last push. You can do this.”

Bucky’s staring out at his net, eyes narrowed, in that place he goes when he gets focused. Steve doesn’t try to talk to him. Instead, he focuses and taking as many deep breaths as he can. An icing means they can’t switch players. Not that Steve would want to. This is the biggest moment of the series, and he gets to be on the ice for it. He wouldn’t trade that for anything.

When they get back on the ice, the Avengers line up so they’re a wall between the faceoff circle and the net. Even if the Rangers do win it, they won’t have a clear shot.

Steve takes a deep breath as Sitwell raises the puck.

He drops it, and Bruce lunges forward catching the puck and sending it flying backwards into the boards behind the net.

2...1...0.

The stadium  _ erupts _ , and Steve whirls around, because Bucky is  _ right there _ , and he lifts Bucky clean off his skates. 

“Best fucking goaltender in the world,” Steve says.

“4 down!” Clint shouts, crashing into them. “12 to go!”


	12. Chapter 12

They clean-up against Boston, winning in 5, but Bruce picks up a two-game suspension in Game 4 which carries into Game 1 against the Lightning. Blonsky picked up a matching suspension for the absolutely  _ nasty _ hit that caused Bruce to go off on him.

Blonsky shoved Peter facefirst into the boards - just a forearm to the numbers in a gross imitation of the hit that knocked him out for most of the second half of the season. Peter’s neck snapped back, and he went face first into the glass, and Steve wasn’t the only one whose breath caught in their throat.

But Bruce was the first one to reach Blonsky, hauling him off and then  _ laying  _ into him, going into Hulk mode as Logan calls it. Bruce had to be pulled off Blonsky by both linesman, and Blonsky had to be helped off the ice, blood gushing from his face.

Blonsky got a two game game suspension for the hit on Peter (it should’ve been more in Steve’s opinion, but Peter only missed the rest of the game so the NHL went easy on Blonsky). Steve doesn’t understand how Bruce and Blonsky got the same suspension, but if you listen to Ross then Bruce didn’t get suspended long enough.

Either way, they’re up against Tampa Bay without their first line center.

To make matters worse, the last time they played Tampa, Marko took Peter out. There's history between the two teams, and it’s apparent from the moment they get to the Amalie Arena. 

There are signs that show Peter crying as he’s stretchered off the ice (which didn’t even happen), signs where Thor appears to be in jail, and, when Avengers are announced, the crowd starts booing at Brooklyn, so loud they drown out the Avengers part of Brooklyn Avengers.

“I can't wait to shut them up,” Logan says as he looks around at the people filling the stadium.

“You and me both,” Sam agrees.

“Fuckers don’t even have proper winters down here. How the hell do they call themselves hockey fans?”

Steve listens with half an ear as Logan derides Florida then America in general for being subpar hockey enthusiasts. Logan’s rants are almost comforting by now.

He only shuts up once the line-ups are announced and then it’s time for the anthem. Logan gave the locker room an earful about that during the Boston series, complaining that he shouldn’t have to put up with the American anthem every game if they weren’t going to play Canada’s too.

Clint made a comment about how they’d listen to  _ O, Canada _ if a Canadian team could actually make the playoffs, and; well, Steve’s surprised that didn’t end with punches being thrown.

Since Tampa Bay is the home team, they have last change, and they put their 4th line out against the Avengers’s 3rd line to get the game started.

Marko makes eye contact with Steve and smirks, and Steve has to remind himself that he needs to keep cool. The Lightning obliterate opponents who give them power play opportunities, and Steve isn’t going to give them a man advantage before the game even starts.

Nathaniel Richards loses the opening faceoff (Bobby’s been bumped up to the first line during Bruce’s suspension) and the puck goes careening down towards Steve’s corner. He takes off after it, reaching the puck just in time for Marko to slam him into the boards.

“Parker still fragile?” Marko asks, holding Steve against the glass even after Steve’s kicked the puck to the safety of Sam’s stick.

“Touch him and I’ll break your fucking hands,” Steve says.

“Oh yeah?”

Steve elbows Marko in the face, confident the refs will let it slide, because it’s the playoffs, and Steve doesn’t even hit Marko as hard as he deserves.

“Yeah,” Steve says and takes advantage of Marko recoiling to get out from underneath him.

The puck goes into the Lightning bench 10 seconds later, and Steve skates to his own bench for a change.

Sitwell catches him on his way. “Keep it together, Rogers.”

Well, that answers the question of whether anyone saw what Steve did. It also answers the question of how tight a series the refs are going to call. 

“Just getting myself some breathing room,” Steve says.

Sitwell gives him an unimpressed look.

Steve reaches the bench and taps Hank’s helmet. “You ready?”

Hank nods, determined. “I’m not going to let you down.”

~*~

Bishop plays big in goal, and Steve can see his team growing frustrated with how the guy is  _ everywhere _ , stopping puck after puck.

“Trust the system,” Coulson tells them during the second TV timeout.

“Trust the system,” he repeats during the first intermission and then again during the second.

Even Clint, who soaks up Coulson’s speeches like they’re law has doubt creeping into his eyes.

“He can’t stop everything,” Wade says even though evidence so far says that he can.

“I’ll give him something he can’t stop,” Logan promises.

Despite Logan’s tough talk it’s Bobby who scores the opening goal of the series, 2:51 into the third.

And, like that’s what they needed in order to prove that Bishop is beatable, they score another two goals in quick succession - one from Natasha at 3:02 and one from Loki at 3:59.

In addition for them being up 3-0, it means that the new Clint-Bobby-Natasha line has combined for 12 points in the past two games. It won’t surprise Steve if they stay together even after they get Bruce back.

The Lightning put up a good fight, but Bucky stands on his fucking head and gets himself a shutout in Game 1 of the Eastern Conference Finals.

“You were amazing,” Steve says as they load up on the bus for their drive back to the hotel. “Fucking unreal.”

“Damn right I was,” Bucky says, trying for cocky, but there’s a flush in his cheeks like he’s embarrassed by the praise.

“The best,” Steve says, just to watch the flush creep down Bucky’s neck. “I’m glad you’re here.”

“You’re only saying that because I got a shutout,” Bucky says.

Steve’s smile immediately drops off his face. “No I’m not.”

Bucky sighs. “Of course you’re not. You get serious about the weirdest things.”

“You and me,” Steve says, “Til the end of hte line. No matter what happens along the way.”

He and Bucky play hockey together, but they’re so much more than that. Steve knows they’re in the middle of their most important hockey so far in their careers, but he doesn’t want to lose sight of who they are -  _ what  _ they are.

“Til the end of the line,” Bucky echoes.

~*~

Game 2 starts out well, a goal in the first minute from Bruce and another one another three minutes later from Clint. 

They go into the first intermission with a two goal lead, and Steve doesn’t think they get cocky per se, but they definitely start to get comfortable, and it doesn’t take long for the Lightning to take advantage of that.

They score in the first half of the second period, and Steve isn’t on the ice for the goal, and he scowls on the bench as the light flashes and the crowd begins to cheer, finding new life after a slow start. The crowd doesn’t quiet until the teams go back down the tunnel for second intermission and even still, Steve thinks he can still hear them chanting  _ Let’s Go Lightning _ . 

“We can’t get complacent,” Coulson says once everyone’s hunched in their stalls with a Gatorade and water bottle apiece. “This game isn’t over until the clock runs out. We were playing like it was over, because we got two quick goals, but they’ve already gotten one back, and they’ve got another twenty minutes to score another. Don’t let them.”

They almost don’t. 

They play 29:10 of the best defense they’ve played all year. Steve’s going to have a plethora of bruises later from all the shots he blocked, but they keep their net safe until the Lightning get the puck deep enough to pull Bishop, and then Johnny Storm snipes a shot high glove side and the game is tied.

Steve looks away but not before Johnny drops his stick and shakes his hands like it’s too hot to handle. He’s careful to keep his eye roll all mental so none of the cameras catch him. Steve’s all for goal celebrations - as long as you don’t look like a complete douche. 

He skates by Bucky, but Bucky’s staring out ahead of him, already putting the goal behind him so Steve heads over to the bench for a change.

“Keep it together,” Coulson’s telling the team as Steve gets there. “There’s still a lot of hockey left to play.”

50 seconds later the period ends 2-2, and the series goes to its first OT.

~*~

Steve always plays with a buzzing under his skin in OT. It’s first goal wins which makes him both want to be extra risky and extra cautious and sometimes he gets caught between both impulses and ends up almost frozen on the ice. 

Coulson is a fan of the cautious approach. He doesn’t want them to change their game going into OT. He wants to play that game that got them where they are and trust that with enough patience they’ll score the game winner.

It doesn’t happen tonight.

They actually get a decent cycle going in the offensive zone, and T’Challa pinches down, but Peter doesn’t cover the now vacant spot at the point, and Cassidy springs the Summers brothers for a breakaway that turns into a 2-on-1 against Hank.

Steve doesn’t worry, because they run drills like this all the time. When you’re a d-man caught against two forwards you pick one to cover and trust the goalie to cover the other in case there’s a pass.

Only, Hank must panic or just forget, because he plays the pass, and that means both Alex and Gabriel are offensive threats, and Bucky’s good, but he’s not that good. 

Alex saucers the puck over Hank’s stick, and Gabriel catches it and only takes a second to settle it before he shoots it on goal.

Bucky catches a piece of it but not enough and the puck bounces off him and into the net.

Game over.

2-3.

Steve takes a deep breath and leads his team down the tunnel to the locker room.

~*~

Steve doesn’t get a chance to shower until after he talks to the media, and they want to press him on what the loss means for the series (it means that it’s tied going back to Brooklyn), on if they’ll go back to their regular lines (that’s up to the coaches but so far the Clint-Bobby-Natasha and Wade-Bruce-Logan lines are working out), and if Hank or Bucky is more to blame for the loss (neither). 

“Are you really going to stand there and say there’s no one to blame for a loss?” Madden demands, like he’s mad Steve won’t throw a teammate under the bus. 

“We win the same as we lose,” Steve says. “As a team.”

Madden isn’t the only one in the small crowd to roll their eyes.

“If we’d scored another goal then we might’ve avoided OT,” Steve says. “If I’d been able to get into the shooting lane on the second goal then maybe it wouldn’t have happened. There’s a million places in a game that you can point to and say  _ what if _ . Tomorrow we’ll look at some of those instance in video review, and we’ll tighten up our game - find ways to create more offensive opportunities and make sure we’re playing solid defense. That’s how we get better and win games. Not by pointing fingers. If that’s something you want to do then that’s your choice, but you won’t get any approval from me.”

Madden does a pretty hilarious impression of a fish before Skye pipes up with a question about the number of players on the team who’ve never played in a conference final before (almost all of them) and how he thinks that impacts their play.

By the time Steve’s finally able to escape and get a shower most of the team has already gone out to the bus.

Hank’s the only one still in the locker room, sitting next to his stall with his head in his hands.

“Time to go,” Steve says, slinging his duffel over his shoulder - their equipment guys’ll take care of their gear bags.

“I’m sorry,” Hank says, picking his bag off the ground.

Like a lot of the rookies, the suit he’s in doesn’t fit right, but Hank’s is especially big, and it makes him look like he’s trying to wear a hand-me-down from his dad. Steve thinks he wouldn’t look quite so lost right now if he didn’t look like he was drowning in his game day suit. 

“It’s not your fault,” Steve says.

“I let you down,” Hank says, like Steve didn’t even say anything. “I know better. I do but I panicked and - I know better.”

Hank’s shuffling his feet, and Steve has to slow down his pace so they can still walk together. This is probably the kind of conversation they should have before they reach the bus. 

“You do know better,” Steve says, and Hank’s head snaps up, eyes wide and worried like he’s afraid he’s about to get yelled at. “And you’re going to take a lot of shit for what happened but not from me and not from anyone else on the team.”

Steve made mistakes tonight. If he’d managed to clear the puck out of the zone then the second goal wouldn’t have happened when it did. A couple sports guys might talk about it, but it’ll be nothing compared to the coverage Hank will get for making a mistake on the play that led to the game winning goal. But Steve meant what he said. The loss isn’t Hank’s fault. Well, it’s not his fault more than it’s anyone else’s fault on the team. That’s what being on a team means. 

“I won’t make the same mistake again,” Hank promises.

“I believe you.”

~*~

They drop the first game at home.

And then the second.

It’s a quiet flight down to Tampa Bay for Game 5 and their first elimination game of the playoffs.

Steve’s streaming playoffs coverage on the flight, and he frowns when Mike Milbury reminds everyone that, “No team’s in trouble until they lose at home, and the Avengers just lost two in a row at home. It’s not looking good if they’re the team you’re rooting for.”

“Why’re you listening to that garbage?” Bucky asks, looking over Steve’s shoulder at the NHL roundtable Steve has on his tablet. 

“I don’t judge you for what you’re watching,” Steve says.

Bucky turns Steve’s tablet off.

“Hey!” Steve protests.

Bucky ignores him and hooks one of his headphones over Steve’s ear. “Watch with me instead.”

Bucky tilts his screen towards Steve, and Steve frowns, because, “Is this a Russian soap opera?”

“Shh,” Bucky says.

“I don’t understand Russian,” Steve reminds him.

“Good. You need to stop thinking. Now stop talking. This is an important part.”

Steve shuts his mouth and leans in towards Bucky. As always, Bucky’s right. Steve wouldn’t let any of his teammates get sucked into studying their coverage, because it’s not healthy and it’s not productive. It’s just - Steve can feel their post-season slipping from his fingers, and he doesn’t want their season to end, especially not like this.

Not that it’s over.

It isn’t over until they lose four.

And yeah, they’ve lost three in a row, but they can still turn this around. They just need to get back to playing like they did in Game 1. They need to stop taking penalties and stop getting into their own heads.

They need to trust their system.

Bucky pokes him. “You’re thinking again.”

“Sorry,” Steve says. “Maybe you should watch this with Natasha instead.”

“Natasha doesn’t like soaps. She thinks they’re unnecessarily dramatic.”

“And you like drama?”

“In my TV,” Bucky says. “Makes my life look put together in comparison. No matter what goals I let in or what kind of injury I get, at least I didn’t knock up my brother’s fiance, because I mistook her for her identical twin.”

Steve looks at the tablet screen then over to Bucky. “That’s what happening?”

“Last season,” Bucky says. “Now they’re trying to figure out who’s going to raise the baby. You want me to put subtitles on?”

“Naw, I’ll just guess,” Steve says, “and take comfort that anything is possible.”

“That’s the spirit,” Bucky says and settles back in to watch.

~*~

They get to Tampa and have a light skate - more to shake out their legs than to get any real work in and then Steve holds a team meeting, because they need to get refocused or their season ends tomorrow.

And that’s what he starts off with.

“Tomorrow’s the end unless we can dig deeper and find something to play for,” Steve says, and he sees a couple of his teammates flinch, watches as a couple drop their gaze because they can’t meet his eyes. He doesn’t want to bring them down too much, but he does want to chip away at the doubt they’re all wallowing in and build them up towards something better.

“Did you know there are only three guys on our roster who’ve been in a Conference Final before?” Steve asks. “And only one who’s won it? This is a new experience for most of us. And the next one? That’s even newer. If you can’t find it in you to play for yourself then I want you to look around the room and pick someone to play for. Maybe Natasha who is setting records and breaking boundaries with every win we get, because she’s doing something no woman has ever done before. Maybe Peter who thought his season was over, and he clawed his way back to be here so the least we can do is keep his season going. Maybe Logan who has worked his fucking ass off for this team only to get burned season after season after season. Look around you. Every single person in this locker room is worth playing your best for. I know Coach keeps talking about trusting the system, but I want you to do more than that. I want you to trust each other. We didn’t make it to the Eastern Conference Finals because of a fluke or because it was a weak year. We did it because we’re a damn good team. Let’s get out there tomorrow and remind everyone of that.”

Bucky stands up, and he walks over to Steve and puts a hand on his shoulder before putting his other hand out like they’re in a huddle. “I’m playing for you tomorrow.”

“Buck,” Steve starts, but then Clint’s coming up next to Bucky, and he puts a hand on Bucky’s shoulder and puts the other on top of Bucky’s hand.

“I’m playing for you tomorrow.”

Steve’s mouth opens, but no words come out.

Sam goes on Steve’s other side and grips his shoulder tight. “I’m playing for you, man.”

“For you,” Natasha says, gliding up to the huddle. 

She puts her hand in.

Within a couple of minutes the whole team is on their feet, hands in, and Steve has to clear his throat a few times before he can speak.

“For us,” he says. “For the Avengers.”

~*~

Game 5 is on Tampa ice again, but they come out hard even in front of tens of thousands of fans that want them to lose. 

It quickly becomes a game of back-and-forth.

The Avengers score a goal and then the Lightning score a goal.

The Avengers score another goal and then the Lightning answer. Again.

Steve’s not the only one who gets up when they score and down when the Lightning immediately tie it up, but no one on his team hangs their heads for long, and that’s the attitude they’re going to need if they want to come out of this game on top.

There 2:21 left in the second period when Peter snipes an absolute beauty of a goal and as soon as the goal lamp lights up, Peter spins around to point right at where Steve’s sitting on the bench before he goes into his usual celly.

Steve can’t help his smile, and he’s still smiling as Peter and the rest of his line skate by for fistbumps.

“We hold this lead,” Steve says while Coulson decides who’s he putting out on the ice next. “This is the third time we’ve been up this game, but we’re not giving them any room to tie it up again. Block shots, get in passing lanes, and bust your ass to backcheck.”

“Aye, aye, Cap,” Wade says.

They keep their lead going into second intermission, and it’s T’Challa who speaks up in the locker room and talks about the things they did right and how to keep doing them.

They keep their lead 5 minutes into the period.

Then 10.

Then 15.

There’s two minutes left on the clock when Tampa uses their time out.

“Keep strong,” T’Challa says as Coulson hurriedly sketches out a play. “Keep together.”

Coulson goes over what to do if they win the faceoff and what to do if they lose it and then sends them onto the ice.

It’s Steve, Sam, and the heavy hitting line (Logan, Bruce, and Wade), and they have one job - keep the puck out of their net.

Bruce wins the faceoff, and he gets the puck to Wade, but he’s near the boards and when Marko closes in on him, Wade sends the puck down the ice. It’s way wide of the empty net, and the whistle blows for icing.

Bruce loses this faceoff, but Logan’s there to battle with Storm for the puck, and he easily overpowers the smaller forward, and his pass misses Wade’s stick and  _ that  _ gets called for an icing too.

Bruce wins the next faceoff, but Alex Summers jumps into the play, and gets the puck behind the goal line, and Steve goes after him, shoving the kid up against the glass and trying to pin the puck. At this point he doesn’t even care about clearing the zone. He just wants to run time off the clock.

He gets slammed into from behind - Marko - and it hits him harder into Summers who goes down easy. Maybe a little too easy.

The refs don’t call anything and the fans roar their outrage, and Steve’s trying to hold Marko off while keeping the puck against the boards with his skate. He gets slashed and elbowed and shoved and eventually Marko manages to get him off balance.

Steve’s able to knock the puck over to Sam who sends it down the ice for -

Yep, another icing.

Steve’s breathing hard as Coulson uses their time out.

Steve’s pretty sure he’s going to end up being on the ice for the full final two minutes of the game. 

He leans over the boards and tries to suck in deeper lungfuls of air, but his breath keeps catching which sends his brain into a panic, because it’s like the asthma attacks he had a kid.

“Huffing and puffing, old man?” Logan asks, nudging Steve’s shoulder. “Thought you were supposed to be one of the young guys on the team.”

“Maybe five years ago,” Steve pants. 

Coulson shows them the faceoff play they practiced yesterday. It’s one of their go-to moves, the kind of thing they could do in their sleep.

And hopefully something they can do when they’re exhausted. 

They line up (on the other side of Bucky for a change) which means Logan takes the faceoff. 

He doesn’t go for the puck so much as he goes for making sure Storm doesn’t get the puck, but Wade knows the plan and he skates through to pick up the loose puck, and he gets it to Sam who sends it up to Bruce who is able to get to the red line before he throws the puck down the ice. 

No icing this time.

Steve’s the only one who isn’t able to get a change, because LeBeau is fucking  _ fast _ , and he’s carrying the puck back into Steve’s zone before Steve can even get halfway to his bench.

The kid always catches the Avengers in the middle of change which means it’s Steve who’s at the end of his strength against a fresh 19 year old.

But Steve’s also got time on his side, and LeBeau doesn’t have time to deke and dangle. He’s got to get the puck in the net so he takes a rushed shot, and Steve dives into its path in a move that would get him benched in midgets, but this is the playoffs, and in the playoffs you do whatever it takes to keep the puck out of your net - even if it’s ugly.

The puck cracks off Steve’s visor, the impact jarring enough that when Steve hits the ice he doesn’t get up right away. 

“Note to self,” he mumbles as his teammates immediately swarm him. “Don’t stop a puck with your head.”

“You fucking idiot,” Bucky says and then snarls when Thor tries to give Steve a hand up. “Don’t move him. He hit his head.”

“It wasn’t that hard,” Steve says. He tries to sit up but Bucky plants his blocker on his chest and doesn’t let him move. “It just stunned me. I’m fine.”

Bucky glares at him until Steve lies back down on the ice.

“Happy?” Steve asks.

“Flat on his back and still sassing me,” Bucky mutters.

Steve doesn’t get a retort in before Dr. Grey reaches him, escorted by Sam and T’Challa.

“I’m fine,” Steve tells her as she kneels down next to him.

“Let me be the judge of that,” she says. She makes him follow her finger with his eyes and then asks him a couple simple questions.

“I’ve been concussed before,” Steve says. “I know what that feels like. This isn’t it.”

“Because a hockey player has never lied about an injury in the playoffs?” Dr. Grey asks.

Steve sighs. 

“We’re going through the protocol,” Dr. Grey says. “If you’re a good boy then maybe you’ll be cleared to talk to the media after the game is over.”

“There’s two seconds left,” Steve says. “You’re really not going to let me watch?”

“Protocol,” she says, unwavering. “If you keep fighting me then I’ll have you carried off the ice.”

Steve promptly shuts his mouth.

~*~

They pull out the win, and Steve’s cleared for light and noise and, most importantly, hockey, and he makes it to the locker room to catch the tail end of postgame interviews. 

“You had an addition to your celly tonight,” Christine Everhart tells Peter, “I thought hockey players didn’t mess with their routines.”

“We had a good talk yesterday,” Peter says, “The whole team got together, talked about how hockey is playing for more than just yourself, it’s playing for your whole team. Steve, I mean he’s our captain, but he’s so much more than that. He’s the guy who’ll take you out to dinner because you’ve had a good game or bring movies and popcorn to your place if you’re having a rough week. He’s - he’s the guy every person in this room wants to play their best for, and I think I was able to do that tonight. And I just wanted to give a little of what he’s given to me over this season back to him. So that goal was for him. And that makes it the best one I’ve scored all season.”

Peter grins, a little goofy, incredibly young, but completely sincere. 

Steve slips back out of the locker room before anyone can notice him.

If he has to stop into the bathroom to grab a couple tissues; well, that’s nobody’s business but his.

~*~

They win Game 6 at home and then it’s back on the road for Game 7.

Both teams are in the same situation now - win or go home - and it’s nice to not be the only one with their backs up against the wall. Of course, it means that both teams have a fire lit under their ass, and the first ten minutes is pure chaos.

Honestly, Steve doesn’t know how the score isn’t 3-3 or even more than that once the initial push settles back into the tough hockey they’ve been playing all series. 

The Lightning are the first to score, on a powerplay off a bullshit call. 

Yes, Thor hooked Storm, but Storm went down easy, and it was a light hook. 

Steve puts it behind him.

They can come back from being down 0-1.

They tie it up in the last minute of the period and go into the locker room tied.

The Lightning score to open the second period.

The Avengers score to close it.

2-2.

They take another penalty at the beginning the third period and Storm converts on it.

He smirks and points at Steve in a mockery of what Peter did in Game 5. Steve’s tempted to go and punch the smirk off Storm’s face, but they still need to tie the game up.

In the back of his mind, a nagging voice reminds him that every win this series has been by the team that scored three goals. 

He’s pretty sure it’s the stat that all the announcers are reading off, and Steve sets his jaw, determined that they’re going to change that. It doesn’t matter if the past 500 games were won by the team that scored three. This game isn’t going to turn out this way.

“Focus,” Steve says when Logan catches what Storm’s doing.

“I just wanna punch him a little,” Logan says.

“Another time,” Steve promises. “In the regular season.”

Logan huffs. “Fine. What’s the plan, Cap?”

~*~

It’s still 2-3 with 10 minutes left in the period.

And it’s still 2-3 when the clock winds down to 5 minutes.

“We’re doing the right things,” Steve says during a TV timeout. “Keep playing our game, and the puck’ll go in.”

Peter’s eyes flick around like he’s not sure he believes what Steve’s saying. 

By the time the clock winds down to 1:21 Steve’s beginning to doubt too.

He pushes it aside. For the next 1:21 he’s going to believe that his team will win this game.

They pull Bucky, and Logan joins Bobby, Clint, and Natasha as the forwards on the ice. Clint dumps the puck in and Logan goes after it, crushing Marko into the boards and freeing the puck up for Natasha to scoop up and send to Clint. He sends it back to her, and she passes up to Sam who winds up and shoots.

Logan and Marko have moved their battle to the front of the net, and the puck hits Marko’s skate and slips past Bishop.

3-3.

They’re going to overtime.

Steve’s the first to reach Sam, lifting him off the ice and spinning him around before the rest of their teammates reach them. 

~*~

Steve’s nerves battle with his excitement as they get ready for the overtime period. Sudden death Game 7 is about as big as a game gets, and Steve can’t wait to get out there. It’s their season boiled down to one goal - score and you move on, get scored on and go home and clean out the locker room.

Steve’s bouncing from foot to foot as they line up for the faceoff. 

Sitwell drops the puck and they’re off.

Thor wins the faceoff to Loki who somehow twists around Storm’s hit and snakes the puck up to Peter who gets knocked clean off his skates. 

LeBeau picks up the puck, but Steve’s there to challenge him at the blue line, and Storm crosses the blue line and Sitwell blows his whistle for an offside. 

The faceoff goes back down near Bishop.

5 minutes pass without a score on either side.

Then 10.

They’ve just ticked past the 15 minute mark when Thor and Loki, going for the same puck, collide and tumble down to the ice. 

It creates a 2-on-1, the Summers brothers against Hank, and Steve, stuck on the bench, bites down on the finger of his glove, because they’ve seen this before. They saw this in Game 2. Overtime, 2-on-1, and Hank panicked.

This game is even bigger than that one and -

Hank steps up, taking the ice Alex wanted, and Alex passes to his brother who shoots the puck on net, but Bucky saw it coming the whole way and cradles the puck against his chest. He looks around before dropping the puck to the ice and passing it up to Loki who’d gotten untangled from his brother and tried to come back to help.

Loki cradles the puck before he spins around for a no look spin-o-rama  _ pass _ to Thor who catches the puck as he’s striding into the offensive zone, and he  _ unloads _ , hammering a shot that Bishop has no chance at stopping.

The puck hits the net so hard it knocks Bishop’s waterbottle out of its cradle, and there’s a moment of stunned silence in the arena before the Avengers are pouring over their bench because they did it.

They beat the Lightning.

They’re the Eastern Conference Champs.

~*~

“12 down,” Bucky tells Steve later, with an ECF hat on his head and beer on his breath. “4 fucking more to go.”

“We can do this,” Steve says.


	13. Chapter 13

They’re playing LA.

Steve  _ hates  _ LA. 

The Kings are who Schmidt plays for and recently they picked up Brock Rumlow, one of the nastiest players Steve has ever seen play the sport. 

Artemi Panarin had to leave the Western Conference Finals on a stretcher because of Rumlow and all the guy got was a one-game suspension. If he goes after any of Steve’s teammates like that then Steve doesn’t care if he gets kicked out of the NHL, he will fuck Rumlow up. 

“Schmidt’s the guy that gave you the scar,” Bucky says the night before their first game. 

Steve stops puttering around the hotel room to look up at Bucky. “No,” he says.

“No he didn’t give you the scar?” Bucky asks. “I thought that’s why you call him the Red Skull.”

“Yes, he gave me the scar. No, you can’t do whatever you’re thinking.”

“You don’t know what I’m thinking,” Bucky says.

“This isn’t about personal vendettas or shit he did in juniors. This is about our franchise. This is about our team.”

Bucky rolls his eyes. “What’d I tell you about trying to captain me? You and I both know that ‘this’ is about you. I play because of you. I play  _ for _ you. I don’t give a fuck about the Avengers.”

“You’re lying,” Steve says, “which is good, because I’d be pretty pissed at you if you weren’t. The best thing you can do to screw Schmidt over is to help us win this series.”

“If that’s what’ll help you sleep at night,” Bucky says.

~*~

Bucky knocks his fucking helmet off.

Schmidt plants himself in front of the net because that’s what he does, and Steve’s on the bench, because it’s not his turn to be on the ice, and Bucky decides to channel his inner Carey Price or something, because he tips Schmidt’s helmet up and into his face. 

Schmidt bats it off and then knocks it away with his stick and plays the rest of his shift helmetless. 

Steve’s pretty sure if they were able to get possession of the puck then one of his teammates would’ve fired it at Schmidt’s head.

“Alright,” Steve says during the first intermission, the first time he really gets a chance to corner Bucky. “You’ve had your fun. Now knock it off.”

“Did you read what he said about you?” Bucky asks.

Steve raises his eyebrows. “Really? Reading press? You know better than that.”

Bucky doesn’t let Steve brush the topic aside. “He’s said you’re an inferior version of him.”

This is old news to Steve. “We don’t even play the same position. He’s just spouting the usual bullshit, trying to get someone to bite. And you did. So good job playing into his hand.”

“No one out there is better than you,” Bucky says.

“He’s still bitter that I got drafted before him,” Steve says. “Seriously, let it go. We need to focus on the game.”

“Fine,” Bucky snaps and goes to fucking meditate with Richards or do whatever it is goalies do to get ready to play.

Steve puts the incident out of his mind.

But there’s someone else who noticed Bucky pestering Schmidt.

Someone who had a problem with it.

Rumlow’s on a breakaway when he decides it’s too much effort to pull up, and he barrels skates first into Bucky, knocking Bucky into his net and then the net off its rungs. The three of them - Bucky, Rumlow, and the net crash into the boards, and Steve’s lucky he’s on the ice for the incident, because he would’ve gotten in a shitload of trouble for jumping over the boards to fight Rumlow.

He’s still going to get in trouble as it is, but not as much.

Steve hauls Rumlow out of the net and gets in a right hook that puts Rumlow flat on the ice.

“Get up you fucking coward,” Steve says, getting into a fighting crouch - not exactly easy on skates. 

Some guys would just stay down. 

Rumlow isn’t like that.

He gets to his feet and gets Steve in the gut and then his knuckles graze Steve’s head, and Steve comes back at him. Steve gets in two heavy hits, the kind of hits that would bring most people to the ground, but Rumlow just comes back with two quick jabs of his own.

Steve and Rumlow are both bleeding by the time the refs get in to separate them. Steve’s got a cut above his eyebrow that’s going to need some repairs before he can get back on the ice. He’s better off than Rumlow, though, who's got blood on his teeth and the beginning of a black eye.

They’re each send down the tunnel to cool off for ten minutes, and Steve watches the game from the trainer’s room as Dr. Grey patches him up.

“I wish you wouldn’t fight,” she says as he stitches his cut and then puts a layer of glue over it so it won’t break open and bleed.

“He went after Bucky,” Steve says. “I couldn’t let that go.”

“He’s not going to leave you be for the rest of the series,” Dr. Grey says. “Players like that - they make a name and a living off hurting players like you.”

“I learned how to take a punch a long time ago. I’ll be alright.”

Steve gets back to the bench with enough time for two more shifts before the period ends. He’s met by boos from the crowd and back slaps from his teammates.

Bucky, when he pulls Steve aside during second intermission, isn’t nearly as pleased as the rest of the team. “Don’t do that again,” Bucky says, after he’s made sure it’s just the two of them in the hallway.

“Defend you?” Steve asks. “You and I both know nothing’ll stop me from doing  that.”

“You’re playing right into their hands,” Bucky says, exasperated. “You gave him a 2-for-1. He got to take a run at me and get you off the ice.”

“Rumlow had to sit too,” Steve reminds him.

Bucky rolls his eyes. “You’re not equal players. Losing you hurts us more than losing him hurts them.”

“He’s a goalie killer,” Steve says. “He ended three careers in the 5 years he played in the KHL. I’m not letting him get you.”

“He won’t,” Bucky promises. “But I need you to keep your head on your shoulders. You can’t lose your shit every time someone comes near me.”

“I’m not going to leave you unprotected.”

Bucky looks like he wants to keep arguing, but they’re going to miss Coulson’s speech.

“We’re not done with this conversation,” Bucky says.

“Sure,” Steve agrees. What he doesn’t say is that Bucky can talk all he wants. Steve’s made up his mind, and Bucky’s not going to convince him to change it.

~*~

Unsurprisingly, Steve’s post game interviews are all about the fight.

“That was a nasty looking bout,” Luke Cage says, giving Steve an opening to talk.

“It was a nasty run at Bucky,” Steve tells him. “You’ve been covering hockey long enough to know that Rule One of hockey is always protect your goalie. If someone goes after Bucky or Reed then they’re going to pay for it. Same as I’d expect if I got too close to Quick.”

“Do you think you’ve dissuaded the Kings from bothering Bucky or have you shown how easy it is to get you off your game?”

The follow up question comes from Madden, and Steve looks him square in the eye and says, “We’ll see next game, but I’ve warned them what happens if they don’t play the right way.”

“Are you saying the Kings don’t play the right way?” Madden presses.

Steve’s not so fired up that he’s going to say something explosive, but he does say, “Look at Rumlow’s track record with goalies and draw your own conclusion. That’s what I did.”

~*~

“Mario Kart party?” Sam asks as they’re finishing up dinner. 

They’re eating in the hotel tonight, the team having gotten dinner catered in, because going out en masse is usually alright during the regular season, but it can get shaky during playoffs. There’s too many people who’ll want to harass them, and it’s just easier to get everyone in the hotel conference room.

It also means no one’s going to get lost getting back to the hotel and that the team managers can keep an eye on how many beers everyone has. 

(the answer is none)

It also means that there isn’t far to go when they’re done eating.

“I’m in,” Clint says, because he’s always in for Mario Kart.

“Me too,” Peter says. He has to cover a giant yawn with his hand. “Maybe only one round, though.”

“Weak,” Wade says, slinging an arm around Peter’s shoulder. “I’m in too.”

Steve looks over at Bucky. “Are we in?”

“Seriously?” Sam asks. “You can’t make independent decisions?”

“No,” Bucky says, and there’s a hard set to his mouth that means he’s unhappy about something. “We’re not in. We need to have a chat.”

“Oooh,” Wade says.

Steve’s betting they’re about to rehash tonight’s game.  _ Again _ .

“Guess we’re not in,” Steve tells Sam. “Maybe next time.”

“Sure,” Sam says. “Tasha, you in?”

“Do I get to be Toad?” she asks. “That’s the only way I’ll play.”

“Who actually wants to be Toad?” Logan says. 

“Not everyone overcompensates by playing as Bowser,” Natasha says. “You pad your jock too?”

“Ohhhhhhhhh,” Wade calls.

Steve decides that it’s a good time for him and Bucky to make their exit. They go up to Steve’s room, because Bucky really doesn’t like bringing games into his room - whether it’s his hotel room or his apartment. Ideally, they’d have this conversation out of the hotel, but Steve’s pretty sure this conversation’s going to get heated, and they can’t risk being overheard. 

Pepper will kill him if he lets the media get ahold of a ‘Star defenseman and his goaltender at odds during Stanley Cup Finals’ story.

“So,” Steve says once they’re in his room. “Want me to offer you a snack or should we get right down to it?”

“We just ate dinner,” Bucky says.

So yes, they’re getting right down to it.

Steve crosses his arms over his chest and waits.

“I can’t believe you went after Rumlow,” Bucky says. 

“We’ve already had this talk,” Steve says. “I don’t let anyone get away with fucking with you. If he wants to try something then he needs to know I’m coming after him, and that it’s going to be painful. If that means I get another penalty, fine. If it means I get tossed from a game, fine. I’m going to look out for you.”

“You can’t do that,” Bucky says. “You have to think of the team. We can’t afford for you to suspended.”

“But it’s okay for you?” Steve demands. “Mr. I Only Play For You? You can’t tell me that the only reason you’re on this team and playing is because of me and then get on my case when I play for you.”

“You’re the captain,” Bucky points out. “You’re the face of the franchise.  _ You  _ are the team. You can’t play favorites, and you can’t be selfish. I can.”

Bucky...has a point, and Steve kind of hates it and wishes he didn’t. Steve doesn’t get to make boneheaded mistakes, and he doesn’t get to have a short fuse. He has to set the example. He has to be put together all the time. And he really, really can’t be seen to liking one teammate more than another. 

It’s just -

It’s  _ Bucky _ .

“You went after Schmidt even though I told you not to,” Steve mumbles. “So why can’t I go after Rumlow?”

“Because you have to be better than that,” Bucky says. “Me? I can get my hands dirty. Logan? He can take the cheap shots and drop his gloves. You have to be above all that.”

“I should also be able to defend my team,” Steve says. “What kind of captain lets other people fight his battles?”

“The kind that a team will fall apart without their captain,” Bucky says. He steps forward and loosens Steve’s arms until Steve relaxes, until Bucky can hold Steve’s hands. “We need you. We need you clearheaded and focused. We don’t need you hurt, we don’t need you in the box, and we definitely don’t need you suspended. We need Cap.”

“I want to be Steve,” Steve says, and he knows he’s whining, but he can’t help it. And if anyone can handle Steve in a weak moment it’s Bucky.

Bucky reels Steve in until Bucky can hug him. “Once this is over. You can be Steve again once it’s summer.”

Steve rests his head on Bucky’s shoulder and closes his eyes. He’s exhausted. It’s been a long season, and he knows they’re in the final stretch, and he knows that no matter how this series turns out then it will all be worth it, but it grinds on you after a while - always having to be ready with a smile, always having to hold everyone up, always having to be  _ perfect _ .

It feels nice to share some of that will Bucky right now. Steve’ll have to pick it back up in a few minutes, will have to start getting ready for Game 2, but for now, he stands in the middle of his hotel room in Los Angeles, California and lets Bucky hold him.

~*~

“I’m going to fucking wreck you,” Rumlow promises as he skates by Steve during warm-ups. “And once I’ve put you on the ice, I’m going after your buddy.”

Steve glances over at Rumlow, hopes he looks bored instead of pissed. “Nice shiner,” Steve says, nodding towards the black eye that Rumlow’s sporting after their fight. “Must be hard to see out of that thing. I didn’t know it was possible for you to play worse, but being half-blind’ll probably do that.”

Rumlow gets up in Steve’s face, a hard glint in his eyes. “You don’t know what’s coming for you,” he says and then skates away with his hands up as Sitwell comes over to investigate. 

Once Sitwell’s satisfied that Rumlow’s leaving and Steve isn’t going after him, he says, “Don’t be stupid, Rogers.”

“Too late for that,” Steve says with a smile. And then, before Sitwell can get huffy, he adds, “I get that last game was a warning. Thank you, and I’m going to my best to keep my temper in check. I want to win with good, clean hockey.”

“Good,” Sitwell says.

“I’m not sure Rumlow agrees with me, though.”

Sitwell narrows his eyes. “Careful,” he warns.

Steve nods and goes back to his pregame routine. 

~*~

Steve means to keep himself composed. He and Bucky had a good talk last night, and Bucky was right - Steve needs to be the better man and the better player. It’s just, that’s  _ easy _ when he’s comparing himself to Rumlow. Steve could sucker punch Sitwell in the face and be a better person than Rumlow. He could aim the puck at the Kings’s bench and be a better person than Rumlow.

It’s hard to hold yourself to a high standard when the bar for being the better person is set so low. 

Steve tries, though it’s hard, because the Kings use their ability to make the last change to make sure Rumlow and Steve are on the ice together as often as possible. Rumlow finds him after every whistle, getting in a shove or a face wash before the refs tell them to break it up. 

Steve doesn’t respond. He knows better. He  _ is  _ better.

And when Rumlow smirks at him, and Steve wants nothing more than to wipe that smirk off his face, he looks to Bucky for strength. Bucky who’s always solid and so serene in net. Bucky who’ll always have Steve’s back.

Rumlow catches Steve looking one time, and his smirk becomes edged with something nastier. “You on a short leash now, Rogers?”

“Punching you isn’t worth two minutes in the box,” Steve says. “I’d much rather score a goal.”

Steve forces himself to skate away after that. He can’t afford to waste mental energy or time thinking about Rumlow. He needs to focus on the game. He reaches the bench where Sam’s already sitting, because he made his switch. 

“Everything okay?” Sam asks, looking past Steve with a frown.

“Ignore him,” Steve answers. “We need to talk about our next shift.”

“Alright,” Sam says and immediately shifts his attention to Steve. “Is this about Worthington? Because he’s faked out the forwards twice now, gotten them to go down for a block before shooting a different shot.”

“Exactly,” Steve says and lays out his plan for how to keep Worthington from opening up the scoring.

~*~

It’s Clint who gets the first goal of the game. Natasha pickpockets Rumlow, cleanly getting the puck away from him before streaking down the ice. She’s too fast for anyone to catch but instead of shooting on Quick, she waits for him to go down before she leaves a drop pass for Clint, and Clint’s able to snipe it high glove side.

1-0.

It’s the only goal of the game, and Steve’s smiling as he prepares for his media scrum, because they’re up 2-0 in the series heading back home for their first ever Stanley Cup Final Game in the Barclays Center. Hopefully it’s going to be the first of many.

“Not a lot of goals being scored this series so far,” Skye says. “Do you know why that is?”

“Two very talented goalies,” Steve says. “Both Quick and Bucky are up for the Vezina, and it definitely shows.”

“Are you saying the forward groups for each team aren’t talented?” Everhart asks. 

“I think we all know that the Avengers and the Kings wouldn’t be in the Stanley Cup Finals if they weren’t well balanced. Both teams have strong goaltending, strong defense, and strong offense. But right now the scales are tipped a little in favor of the goalies.”

“Do you think it’ll stay that way?” Skye asks.

“Evidence so far points to yes,” Steve answers.

~*~

Steve is promptly proven wrong four minutes into Game 3.

The atmosphere in the Barclays Center is electric. Steve could hear the fans cheering from the locker room and they don’t stop except for the national anthem, but even then they sing along, their voices carrying through the stadium.

When Natasha scores a goal off the opening face off they’re so loud they drown out the sound of the goal horn.

When Schmidt scores an answering goal thirty seconds later they quiet, but the begin cheering in full force again when, at 4:00 exactly, Clint scores to put the Avengers ahead again.

A power play for the Kings puts the score at 2-2 going into the first intermission and a power play for the Avengers to start the second period makes it 3-2. Clint’s now got two goals on the night, and Steve’s not the only one who wants to see him get another. Not just because a 2 goal lead is better than 1, but because playoff hat tricks are the best. Talk about something that gets the fan base fired up.

Every time Clint touches the puck after his second goal, the crowd cheers louder, like they can help him get his third goal with the sheer volume of their voices. 

When he rings a puck off the crossbar there’s an audible disappointment in the stadium.

When they get another power play the stadium swells with noise only to quiet when the power play expires without a goal.

They troop down the tunnel for second intermission with a one goal lead and the knowledge that that Kings are going to come out for the third period fired up.

“Now is the time to focus,” Coulson tells them. “We’ve got a lead. We can make this game ours, but it’s not ours yet. We need another 20 minutes of hard work, and we need it from each and every one of you.”

“Don’t force anything,” Clint says once Coulson’s done talking. “Especially with me. If I get three, great, but I’d rather win the game. If you have a good shot, take it. The more goals we get the better.”

Natasha certainly takes Clint’s advice to heart, because three minutes into the period they’re set up in the offensive zone, and Worthington is cheating towards Clint like he expects Natasha to pass, and she shoots instead, the puck hitting the tip of Quick’s glove and then dropping across the goal line.

4-2 with two goals for Clint and two for Natasha.

“What a fucking line,” Sam says, shaking his head as Clint, Natasha, and Bobby come together for yet another goal celebration.

Steve doesn't think he’ll ever get tired of seeing it.

They congratulate Natasha on her way through and then send their next line out on the ice.

Time for the next shift.

~*~

They get pinned in their zone late in the third period, and Steve’s not entirely surprised when Coulson starts shouting about Quick. Steve risks a glance up to see Quick off to the bench so the Kings can get an extra attacker, and Steve tries to bank the puck off the boards and out of the zone, but Schmidt gets in the way, blocking the puck with his body. 

Instead of clearing the zone, the puck stays at the blue line, and Schmidt gets the puck to Zola who gets it up to Rumlow who bullies his way to a goal. 

The crowd boos even as Sitwell motions that it’s a good goal, and Steve skates over to Bucky who kicks the offending puck out of his net.

“We’ve got this,” Steve promises.

They’re still up by a goal. They can win this. They can defend their net for another 3:27. 

“I know,” Bucky says before sliding his mask back down. 

Quick’s back in net for the center ice faceoff and as soon as the puck crosses into the Avengers’ zone, he’s back to the bench. 

Steve’s next shift on the ice he blocks a shot from the point and then shoves Schmidt out of Bucky’s crease. Schmidt crosschecks him in response, but Steve holds his ground. He gets crosschecked  _ again _ , and Steve knows better than to think there’ll be a whistle this late in the game. 

He gives Schmidt a shove back. “I can do this all day,” Steve tells him.

Schmidt snarls and then they’re both on the move, because Loki’s gotten the puck out of the zone and is flying down towards the Kings’ end of the ice.

He’s knocked off the puck before he can get a shot away, but Thor follows up, catching puck and sending it in deep once he’s reached the icing line so Steve’s team can get a change.

Bruce, Wade, and Logan go over the boards, but Sam and Steve stay on for an extended shift. 

Steve blocks another shot, this time with the inside of his knee, and he’s going to feel  _ that  _ for a while. 

He manages to get the puck out of the zone and limp off for a change, T’Challa taking his place.

“You good?” Coulson asks, not taking his eyes off the ice.

“Yes,” Steve promises.

They get a partial change 43 seconds later, Wade and Bruce getting off, Natasha and Clint coming on. It’s a bit of a miscommunication, because now there’s no center on the ice, but Logan meets Zola at the blue line and crunches him into the boards, the puck squirting free for Clint.

He skates it up the ice, Natasha following him, and Steve slides to the edge of his seat.

There’s no one in range of them.

No one’s going to be able to catch them.

They’re going to get an empty net.

They’re going to win this game.

Clint crosses into the offensive zone and then he slides the puck over to Natasha who hesitates for the barest of seconds before she sends it into the net for a goal.

The fans are stunned, silent for a moment as they process what just happened, and then they’re on their feet shouting and throwing hats on the ice, and Steve leaps to his feet because he can’t leap off the bench and he adds his voice the growing excitement in the stadium.

Natasha’s first NHL hat trick and it comes in the Stanley Cup Finals.

What a fucking way to make her mark on the series. 

Steve hugs the nearest person to him - Sam - and punches Peter’s arm, because Natasha’s scored a hat trick and they’re now up 5-3. 

They win the game.

After they clean up the hats, and Natasha gets fist bumps from the whole team and play finally begins again, the Avengers defend their net.

When the clock runs out it’s still 5-3. 

They’re up 3-0 in the series.

“15 down,” Bucky tells Steve as they get ready for bed that night.

“1 more to go,” Steve replies.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the end. Thank you to everyone who read. This was a super fun first entry for Troping Along (and now I have to scramble to finish August's submission since it's now August 1st). Happy hockey to all you that watch : )

Steve tries not to think about how they’re up 3-0 on the Kings.

He tries not to think about how they could win on home ice.

(how they could sweep)

He tries to focus on the game, on each shift as they come, but it’s hard not to get caught up in everything. The team is flying high off their recent victories, off Natasha’s hat trick. 

They jump out to an early lead 3-0 by the close of the first period, and Steve isn’t the only one who’s trying not to let it go to his head.

“We’ve got a lot of game left to play,” Coulson reminds them. “And the Kings took the Blackhawks to 7 after being down in the series. They’re not going to give up. They’re going to come out hard, and they’re going to come out determined to get us off our game. Stick to our system.”

The Kings start the second period with a strong offensive push. When Bucky finally manages to cover the puck, Rumlow takes a couple extra jabs at his pads, and Logan shoves him out of the crease with a word of warning.

The next time Rumlow gets too close to Bucky Thor crosschecks him in the face. 

Rumlow starts bleeding, and Thor gets a double minor. 

They manage to kill off the first penalty, but they spend the whole time scrambling in their zone and there’s a sense of inevitably to the goal that the Kings finally get. It doesn’t make the goal any easier to swallow, and Steve wishes he was on the ice, because Bucky looks pissed as he fishes it out of his net.

The rest of the period feels like the penalty kill - like something slipping out of their grasp.

To make matters worse, Rumlow scores in the last ten seconds of the period, and he throws a salute off towards Steve before he knocks Schmidt into the boards to celebrate. 

It’s 3-2 going into the third period, and Steve’s confident that they can still win this. 

Their fans aren’t quite so confident. 

The late goal takes all the wind out of their sails and it’s oddly quiet as the third period gets started.

The Avengers kill two penalties that get half-hearted cheers and squander two power plays. Steve considers himself lucky that they don’t get booed by the end of the second one, because they didn’t even get a single clean entry into the offensive zone. 

Time is winding down when Quick is once again pulled for the extra attacker. 

Steve’s first shift they keep the puck out of their net.

Sam stays for a double with T’Challa and then Steve and Hank go over the boards to finish out the game. 

20 more seconds.

They can do this.

Puck can hit anywhere but the back of the net.

20 seconds and they win.

10.

5.

3.

Schmidt squeaks the puck between Bucky’s legs and it trickles over the line.

The stadium is deafeningly quiet as the replay goes up on the Jumbotron. 

The Kings are exuberant as they head down the tunnel to get ready for overtime. 

The Avengers...are less exuberant.

“It’s not over,” Coulson tells them as he stands in front of them in the locker room. “This game can still be ours. We came out strong in the beginning and then sat back and let them take control. If we come out hard, if we take this game back then it’s over. They can’t stop us when we’re at our best.”

Steve sits in his stall, elbows on his knees, head in his hands. Coulson is right. They can win this. They can win it all. 

But they have to do it now.

Because they did come out strong in this game, and they let it slip away from them, one goal at a time, let the Kings build momentum until they thought they could win. Just as it happened in tonight’s game, it could easily happen in the series, and Steve won’t let that happen. He won’t let them win tonight, because that’ll give them the confidence to win the next game.

Steve knows the power of momentum - how easily it can shift, how powerful it can grow, and he’s determined to stop the King’s surge before it can do any major damage.

“We play responsible,” he tells his d-core as they get ready for the start of the period. “Our focus is defense. Let the forwards worry about scoring.”

“They gotta earn their paychecks somehow,” Sam says.

They break up to get shift assignments from Coulson, and T’Challa pulls Steve aside before Steve takes the ice.

“They will target you,” T’Challa says.

“I know.” Steve let himself get pulled into a back-and-forth with Rumlow in Game 1 that’s carried through the series, but Steve doesn’t have the energy to waste on him anymore. He’s got a game to go out and win.

“Don’t give in,” T’Challa says.

“I won’t,” Steve promises.

He takes the ice with Sam and the third line, because Coulson has last change, and he didn’t want the Clint-Natasha-Bobby line against Rumlow, Schmidt, and Zola. The fact that Coulson put Steve on the ice means that Coulson trusts Steve to do the right thing.

Steve won’t let him down.

Bruce wins the faceoff to Logan and then they’re off, Wade and Bruce pushing forward as Steve and Sam hang back as outlets or in case of a turnover.

Logan passes to Bruce who passes to Wade who takes a shot that’s blocked by Schmidt. Bruce collects the puck and sends it down to Logan, but his shot gets smothered by Quick.

They put fresh bodies on the ice, and Thor wins the faceoff, but the Kings get possession and it’s their turn to make a push.

On Steve’s next shift on the ice, he battles with Schmidt in front of Bucky’s net, and Steve takes a crosscheck to the back of the neck, something that would’ve been called for a penalty if it wasn't OT of a Stanley Cup Final elimination game.

The crowd boos and then begins chanting  _ refs you suck _ as the Jumbotron shows what happened, and Steve leaves being pissed off to the fans and doesn’t retaliate. Schmidt and Rumlow know they can’t win a straight hockey match so they’re trying to get the Avengers to play down to their level.

Steve won’t give them the satisfaction.

It’s hard to hold true to his principles when Peter gets taken into the boards and takes a couple extra seconds to get back up. It’s harder when Rumlow goes after Bucky - he gets in as many shoves and extra jabs as he can, but Bucky shakes his head when he sees Steve waver.

“I’ve got this,” Bucky promises as they line up for a faceoff. “Focus on you.”

“Alright,” Steve says.

Twelve minutes into the overtime period, everyone’s beginning to feel it. OT has a way of building like that - every extra minute piling on the questions - why haven’t we scored yet and how much longer can we keep them from scoring.

Both sides are anxious and both sides are tired.

Coulson’s keeping their shifts short so they can have the freshest legs possible, but it’s the period of the long change, and Steve gets caught out on an extended shift.

They set up their cycle in the offensive zone, and he can hear T’Challa telling him he’s good to change, and Steve’s crossing the ice to get to the bench when the puck gets free, and Worthington III tracks it down and takes off on a breakaway.

Steve changes direction and uses the last of his energy to skate after Worthington III. Steve won’t catch him, but he gets close enough to make the kid nervous and when he looks over his shoulder to check where Steve is, Bucky lunges forward to poke the puck away and out of danger.

Steve gets to the puck and throws it up the ice, praying that someone on his team touches it so he doesn't get stuck out here on an icing, as he skates towards the bench for a second time.

He’s got one leg over the boards when he turns to see Wade enter the zone and fake a shot before sliding the puck over to Logan who winds up and slams it past Quick.

Steve’s still half-on half-off the bench when he gets hugged from behind and when people start screaming, because Logan’s just scored the gamewinner.

The game winning goal for the  _ Stanley Cup _ .

Steve goes back over the boards to join the convergence on Logan, tossing his gloves and his helmet aside before tackling Logan to the ice.

It’s a good thing the series is over, because they all pile on top of one another, uncaring if they get hurt in their eagerness to get as close to each other as they can.

“We fucking did it!” someone shouts - Steve doesn’t even know who - and a bunch of their teammates echo the sentiment.

Steve’s hugging everyone in reach - Sam, Natasha, Peter, Reed, and then he remembers Bucky.

He gets himself untangled enough to look back at their net. Bucky isn’t there which means he’s somewhere in the mess of Avengers’ jerseys, and Steve needs him right now. He -

Steve gets hug-tackled from behind, and he almost loses his balance. He twists to see a familiar pair of blue eyes, and he throws his arms around Bucky’s neck and let’s himself  _ cling _ for a long moment, because they did it.

They finally made it to the NHL together.

The won the Stanley Cup.

Steve doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry or join in with the fans’  _ we got the Cup _ chant.

It’s -

“It’s a dream come true,” Steve says when he’s been cornered by Jeremy Roenick for a statement.

Someone’s come through to give them all Stanley Cup Champions hats, but it still hasn’t really sunk it. It won’t until Commissioner Fury presents them with the Cup, until Steve lifts it above his head to show everyone in the building, everyone watching on TV, what they’ve accomplished.

There’s a surge in the volume of the fans when Fury brings the Cup out, and they reach deafening levels when Steve lifts it above his head and takes a victory lap. It feels light in his arms, and he thinks he could play another twenty minutes even though he was about ready to collapse when the game finally ended.

He comes to a stop in front of Logan, and the man looks shocked that Steve picked him as the second person to hoist the Cup.

“You’ve been here since the beginning,” Steve says. What he means, but doesn’t say because of the cameras, is that Logan was here when the team was at their lowest, when the stadium was half-empty. He was here through the shittiest years in recent history, and now he’s a part of the revival.

“You deserve it,” Steve says as the Cup exchanges hands. 

“Fucking right I do,” Logan says and Steve can’t help his laugh.

~*~

After they’ve all gotten a lap with the Cup, families and friends pour onto the ice to give their personal congratulations. 

Steve gets hugs and cheek kisses from Mrs. Barnes and giggly kisses from the Barnes sisters before he drifts to see the Parkers and the Wilsons and the other families, soaking up all the happiness that’s on the ice.

He dodges Pierre McGuire when he thanks Coulson for being exactly the coach they needed, and then he sees Stark, and Steve owes the man too much to skate by him without a word.

“I should’ve worn stilts,” Stark grumbles when Steve comes up beside him.

Stark isn’t a tall man and, surrounded by athletes on skates, he looks particularly small.

“Poor planning,” Steve says, with a smile so Stark knows he’s teasing.

“No kidding.” Stark looks around the rink, his eyes immediately finding the Cup - back on the display table so families can take pictures with it.

Right now it’s Peter with his Uncle Ben and his Aunt May. Later, Steve will track down Colonel Phillips for a picture. And, if he’s feeling daring, he’ll try and convince Peggy to take a picture with him. Peggy and Colonel Phillips are the closest thing he has to a family now; well, except for the guys he’s spent the last season with, and he wants to make sure they share in this win. 

“You know,” Stark says, and Steve knows the man well enough by now not to trust that tone - too light, too easy. “I remember someone telling me not to get my hopes up, because I wouldn’t be able to turn this team around in a year.”

Stark’s eyes are dancing - he’s proud of himself, also amused, and Steve just shakes his head.

“Guess I underestimated your genius,” Steve says and then, in case that’s too familiar for a player to his GM he tacks a, “sir,” onto the end just to be safe.

Stark’s quiet for a moment before he bursts out laughing, and Steve finds himself grinning in response.

Almost immediately, Pierre and a camera crew show up to try and capture the moment between them. 

“Enjoying the win?” Pierre asks, thrusting a microphone between them.

“We are,” Steve says, standing straighter, falling back into his captain role. “You know, we started this season in a pretty low place. Expectations for the team, expectations for Mr. Stark’s leadership were not encouraging. Outside the organization, everyone thought we were going to fail. But Mr. Stark put the right team together, and we didn’t care about what other people were saying. We believed in ourselves, we believed in our coach, and we believed in our system. And it worked out pretty well for us.”

“Bit of an understatement,” Stark says. “I think it worked out perfectly. I’m a high risk-high reward kind of guy, and I’m sure we’d all agree we took some risks this season. But we definitely got rewarded.”

“And maybe we’ve shown that some of those decisions shouldn’t be considered risks,” Steve says, thinking about how they signed the first ever female NHL player, how they took the Norwegians who no other team would sign together. They took Bruce with his anger management issues and Wade who had a bad reputation following him around. They took all these different pieces and they found the right ways to make them fit.

They made themselves a team.

“I guess you could say we managed to assemble the Avengers,” Stark says. “Now, I’m sure Steve has people waiting to congratulate him.”

“Yeah,” Steve says, because Becca, one of Bucky’s sister is waving at him from where they are in line to get a picture with the Cup. 

Becca’s husband has their newborn cradled in his arms, and Steve is not going to miss the first time a baby gets put in their Cup.

He sketches a hasty wave before skating over to where Bucky is trying to get little Dmitry out of his brother-in-law’s arms. 

“Get your own,” Becca’s saying as Steve comes up next to Bucky.

“Ooh, baby,” Steve says and holds his arms out expectantly. 

“Seriously?” Becca demands as her husband wavers, unsure of whether he can deny  _ Steve  _ his son. 

“I just won the Stanley Cup,” Steve reminds Becca’s husband - Alexei, maybe? - because he’s only going to have a single summer to use this to get his way, and he’s going to make the most of it.

“He did just win the Cup,” Maybe-Alexei says looking at his wife.

“So did I!” Bucky points out. “And I played way more minutes.”

“Yes, yes,” Steve says, “You’re the best. I still want to hold the baby.”

“You just want to put the baby in the Cup,” Bucky says.

“And you don’t?”

“Just give them the baby,” Becca says, “Anything to make them shut up.”

Steve grins, triumphant, as he gets little Dmitry. He cradles him in one arm and lets Dmitry grab his finger.

“He’s got a tough grip,” Steve says. “He’s going to be a d-man.”

“Oh no,” Becca says, “You are not trying to corrupt my son already. Once he can hold up his head on his own we can start the fantasy draft.”

“He’s going to be a gymnast,” Alexei says. “Hockey is too dangerous.”

“And if he gets Becca’s genes then he’s going to be short,” Bucky adds.

“I will take my baby back,” Becca threatens.

Steve shuts his mouth and cradles Dmitry closer to his body. 

~*~

Steve doesn’t know when he finally falls asleep.

The night they win the Cup they head to the locker room after the on-ice celebration, and Steve’s memories are a haze of champagne and laughter. He’s pretty sure he lets Bucky pour champagne out of the Cup and into his mouth.

He’s also pretty sure most of the champagne ends up soaking through his shirt.

After getting into dry clothes, the team takes the Cup on a bar crawl through Brooklyn, meeting fans and taking pictures with anyone who wants them.

Their bar crawl ends at Stark’s mansion and so begins an all-day, all-night party.

Steve’s not the only one who is fueled by adrenaline and way too much alcohol.

At some point Steve and Bucky make it back to their apartment and collapse into bed together.

Much too soon Steve’s alarm is going off with a reminder that the Cup parade is today.

“Oh, fuck,” Steve says and then promptly rolls over and pukes into his trash can.

“You couldn’t make it to the bathroom to do that?” Bucky groans. He pulls a pillow over his face to block out the (almost nonexistent) light coming in through their blackout curtains. 

“Sorry,” Steve says. 

“Why the fuck is your alarm going off?” Bucky asks. “We’re victorious. The season is over. We should be hungover in peace.”

“Parade,” Steve says.

“Oh, fuck,” Bucky repeats.

~*~

They’re not the only ones who stagger to the start of the parade or that are wearing sunglasses to one, protect them from the sun and two, hide how hungover they are. 

At least they’ve showered which is more than what they can say for some of their teammates.

“Look who decided to show up,” Wade says, bounding over to give Steve and Bucky hugs. “Thought the the captain was going to be late. That’d be embarrassing.”

“How are you like this?” Steve asks.

“Can’t be hungover if you’re drunk!” Wade replies and thrusts a beer into Steve’s hands. “C’mon, the whole city is out to party with us. Where’s that winning smile of yours?”

Steve looks over at Bucky. “We’re gonna die.”

Bucky laughs and takes the beer out of Steve’s hands. “Might as well die drinking then.”

Everyone loads up into the backs of pick-up trucks, and they drive through a sectioned-off part of the city, waving at the tens of thousands of fans that showed up to watch them drive by with the Stanley Cup.

Steve’s in the truck with the Cup, and he’s not sure who decided to make him in charge of making sure the Cup doesn’t fall out, because he’s not entirely sure  _ he _ isn’t going to fall out.

At least he isn’t tweeting out requests for more beer like Clint.

As they drive by an apartment building, someone tosses a beer can out their open window, and Clint catches it and then raises it up in thanks. Steve really hopes people aren’t going to take this as an invitation to start throwing things, because there’s no way that ends well.

“You’re worrying,” Bucky says. “Even with your sunglasses I can tell. Your forehead gets all wrinkly.”

“My forehead doesn’t get wrinkly,” Steve says. 

“You missed the point,” Bucky says. He pulls a beer out of the cooler Sam had thought to bring and hands it over. “Drink and stop thinking.”

“Glad  _ you’re _ a role model for kids,” Steve mutters, but he pops the cap off and takes a long drink.

After they wind through the city they finally come to a stop where someone’s set up a big platform so the team get on stage for more pictures and, more importantly, speeches.

Steve’s already dreading how many of them are going to drop an f-bomb on live television.  

He makes sure to grab Logan’s arm on their way up the stage and whispers, “Do  _ not _ pull a Corey Crawford, okay?”

Logan laughs which doesn’t make Steve feel particularly reassured and then brushes past Steve so he can be the first the microphone. 

“Cap here just told me to watch my language,” Logan says and the crowd obligingly boos. Logan makes a ‘hush’ motion with his hands. “I know, I know, but listening to our captain got us this far so I guess I owe it to him to keep listening.”

“Thank you,” Steve says. He’s too far away for it to be picked up by the microphones, but he knows there’ll be dozens of people who’ll study the clips from the parade and lip read to find out what he said. 

“Anyways,” Logan says, “I think I speak for more than just me when I say  _ finally _ .”

The crowd begins to cheer again.

Bucky loops his arm around Steve’s shoulders and pulls him up the the microphone, and Logan obligingly steps aside. That should’ve been Steve’s first warning that something isn’t quite right, but he’s too busy drinking in the beautiful day and Bucky’s arm on him and the fact that they’re Stanley Cup Champions to really be thinking all that much.

And then Bucky opens his mouth and says, “I think I also speak for more than just me when I say I’m proud to have been playing with this guy all season.” He gives Steve a little shake and turns a blindingly bright smile on Steve. “So, whaddya say, Brooklyn? Let’s hear it for Captain America!”

The city erupts, and Steve’s pretty sure his entire face is bright red, and if they weren’t surrounded by hundreds of cameras and microphones he’d cuss Bucky out. Or maybe just push them off the platform.

Steve steps up to the microphone amidst chants of  _ Cap! Cap! Cap! Cap! _ and he waits for them to settle down a little bit before he says, “It took a whole team to get us here. So let’s hear it for the Avengers!”

The fans go wild again, waving streamers and flags and jumping around, and Steve falls back among his teammates and just smiles, because everything is right in his world.

~*~

“What’re your plans for the Cup?” Bucky asks when they’re on round 4? 5? of partying. They’re at Logan’s house now, and Steve’s lying on the grass with Bucky at his side. 

The sun’s shining down on them, and Steve’s just in his swimsuit, soaking up as much of the warmth as he can. They went for a swim with the Cup earlier, but they’ve entrusted it into Peter’s care so they can dry off. Steve’s probably going to end up in the pool again soon. Bruce has rigged up some sort of beer float so you can drift around the pool and every once in awhile a case of beer will rock by and you can grab one out.

Steve thinks he’s had more to drink in the past week than he did the rest of the season combined. 

Erskine’s going to kill him at their first training session.

Bucky pokes Steve in the side. “You there, buddy?”

“Hmm?” Steve asks, and then he remembers that Bucky asked him a question. “Oh. The Cup? Take it to my old rink maybe? Our neighborhood. You think Mrs. Polinski’ll forgive me for smashing her shop windows with a puck if I let her touch the Cup?”

“Are you kidding?” Bucky asks. “You put that on her counter, and she’ll tell you to keep the gaudy hardware in Jersey.”

Steve laughs. “She probably has a list of everything I damaged over the years and’ll charge me if I walk through her doors.” 

“Remember how we looked forward to getting our allowance every week so we could go and get ice creams?”

“You remember when Owen tried to shake us down for our allowance money?”

“And you punched him in the face,” Bucky says. “We didn’t get ice cream that day.”

“No,” Steve says. He got the verbal lashing of his life from his Ma. He looks over at Bucky. “You think my Ma saw us win?”

Bucky reaches out to hold Steve’s hand. “I think she’s the proudest mother in Heaven right now.”

“I want you at my Cup day,” Steve says. “I know Pepper ran this whole Brooklyn boys thing, but there was truth to it. This was our childhood, it’s our city. I want to show the Cup to kids just like us, show them that it doesn’t matter where they grow up or how small they are - they can reach their dreams. And they can do it with their best friend at their side.”

“Can’t do it without their best friend,” Bucky amends.

Steve squeezes his hand. “Damn right. You think we can get matching contracts?”

“Only if you want to be underpaid.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “You deserve everything you get. Maybe one day we’ll get a house.”

“You’ll move out of our apartment?” Bucky asks. “You’d never give up a Brooklyn apartment.”

“I didn’t say a house here. We could get a vacation house or something. Can you believe we could be people with a vacation house? Maybe on a lake. We could get a boat. Go fishing.”

“Fishing?” Bucky laughs. “You don’t have the patience for fishing.”

“Can’t you just like stick ‘em in the water and leave them?” Steve asks. “We can make out and let the fish catch themselves.”

Bucky rolls away from Steve he’s laughing so hard. 

“Steve Rogers,” Bucky gasps. “City boy to his core.”

“Shut up,” Steve says. “It’s a thing! I’ve seen it on TV.”

“Make out and the fish will catch themselves,” Bucky repeats, still laughing. “Why don’t they mic you up all the time?” 

“Fuck you,” Steve says. “I’m trying to have a serious conversation here about our future.”

“I thought we already did that,” Bucky says.

“Oh?”

“End of the line,” Bucky says. “Or have you forgotten already?”

Steve rolls until he and Bucky are side by side again. “I haven’t forgotten. You and me. Reunited and we’re not going to be separated again.”

“You, me, and the fish,” Bucky says.

Steve doesn’t feel an ounce of guilt for picking Bucky up and throwing him into the pool. And then he runs after him and cannonballs into the pool, because he’s not letting Bucky go anywhere without him again. 

  
  
  



End file.
